


Finding Futures

by writingfromdarkplaces



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie and Jake have a conversation and more post-Troll that changes everything, even if they don't know it right away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Weight of Things Not Said

**Author's Note:**

> So... This part is kind of a prologue. I decided to separate it out as a chapter because it stands well as an episode tag/missing scene thing that I would have liked to have seen (I think it's kind of obvious the direction I would have liked the show to go in) but I do actually have a much larger plot in mind, and I think people might guess what it is if I put in a certain "inspired by" link.

* * *

Ellie shut the door behind her, looking over to see Jake on their couch. She tried not to wince. She'd told him that they'd talk later, and it was later. She should have known that he'd be waiting up for her, and a part of her did. She'd almost wanted to stay away, to avoid their house and this conversation, but she couldn't.

The choice she made now would determine the fate of her marriage, and it wasn't one to make lightly. She could try and make it work, as they had been and as Jake seemed to want. She had said she did, before, and she'd meant it, but was she lying to herself? She'd kept the fact that she'd killed a man from him.

It wasn't just about his job and the things he couldn't tell her. He wasn't the only one who wasn't talking. The question was—was she doing it out of spite, because he wasn't talking to her, or was she doing it because she no longer wanted to talk? Or to try?

“Hi,” Jake began, and she swallowed, her own nervousness amplified by his obvious uncertainty. “I... I heard about the bombing.”

“You didn't call or text.”

Jake grimaced. “I wasn't sure you wanted me to, and I could see on the news that you were fine. I... I didn't want to push.”

She couldn't blame him for that. Things were difficult between them at the moment. She crossed over to the couch, sitting down next to him. “I should have told you.”

“I may have been overoptimistic about how much I could help,” Jake said. He took in a breath and let it out. “It doesn't change that I wanted to, that I would have wanted to if you'd told me sooner. Or that I hate thinking that you feel you can't come to me anymore. We used to tell each other everything.”

“Now we don't. We can't.”

“I can't,” he said, looking down at his hands. “You still can. You have been.”

She reached for his hand. “I used to work at the same place as you. I know how important it is for you to keep the secrets you keep. I won't say it doesn't make me angry sometimes—like our flight to Turks and the chatter you didn't mention—or this case where I still don't understand why the NSA was monitoring that computer and maybe if we had been able to get it sooner, Bradley Simek would still be alive. Tim's broken up about it. Gibbs is pissed.”

Jake shook his head. “I did not know it would lead to this. And with the NSA monitoring him, you would think that anything like that would have been seen and flagged. I can't tell you how it was missed or why no one told me. Those are things I don't know. I do know I wasn't holding it out of your reach because of spite or what you told me. I... I represent the interests of the NSA. I upheld their interests as is my job and my responsibility. I followed... the letter of the law.”

“I know.”

“Do you blame me?”

She shook her head. “No, Jake. I don't. Please don't think that. I know it's not actually like that, though sometimes it feels more personal than it is when it's you and me and a case.”

He nodded, and she reached up to touch his face, her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her palm. This was familiar. Good, even. She stayed there for a moment before making her decision. Reaching over, she took off Jake's glasses, setting them on the table.

He opened his eyes, startled. “Ellie, what are you—”

She cut him off with a kiss, her hands moving to the buttons on his shirt. He always wore such nice suits, she thought, and it felt like another way they were apart—his formality and her casualness, the wardrobe never having really aligned for them.

He caught her hands, pulling back from her. “We haven't finished talking. We need to discuss this and I don't—”

“Please,” she said. She didn't know how to explain her _need_ for this, but she knew she did. “We... We always talk better after.”

He nodded once, still showing his doubts, even if she was right about that. Some of her best ideas came while lying in his arms after some very intense or just very sweet lovemaking. She had never admitted that to anyone on her team, but she couldn't deny that she craved that feeling. Love, safety, home, it was all there in that moment, and it was why she kept wanting to fix what was wrong between them. She couldn't lose that feeling.

 _It is the things you don't say that have the most weight,_ she heard Qasim say in her head, and she knew it was true. She had so many things she couldn't say to Jake, things she needed to say but couldn't.

She knew why she needed this, why she didn't want to talk about Kabul before they were finished. She wasn't sure he'd still be willing to touch her afterward. She didn't know what she'd do if that was true, but she knew it was part of why she hadn't told him about killing that man. How far had she fallen in Jake's eyes? Did he hate her now that she'd taken a life? Could he still live with her, still love her, knowing that?

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Jake asked. “That we're not... just using it to avoid the things we're afraid to say?”

“We're not,” she assured him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. She tried to come up with a way to tell him why it was important, why it wasn't about avoiding but about reassuring, and she couldn't find it. “I need... I need you.”

“You'll always have me,” he promised, and she nodded, letting him show her in actions instead of words.

* * *

Jake watched Ellie sleep, hand on his elbow. She seemed to be at peace, the first restful night's sleep she'd had in almost a week—and now he knew why that was. He'd assumed before it was some case at NCIS, but her admission about Kabul had changed this. He still felt stupid for not looking past her words about that trip being good. She'd said Qasim had been allowed into the US legally, and she was happy about it, and he'd foolishly let that be all it was.

He shouldn't have, but with the good times seeming so few and far between these days, he'd wanted it to be that way. He'd thought they were back on track again. She'd forgiven him for keeping her out of the loop with the intel Gibbs wanted, and she seemed glad he was becoming friends with her boss. They were in a good place right up until that ill-fated idea of carpooling.

He'd thought that was a good thing at first. Now he knew it wasn't, though he supposed it was good that she'd admitted the truth. He didn't know how he could help her through shooting someone. Killing them. He would never have thought that she could do it, not his Ellie. She was beautiful, inside and out, with a mind he couldn't begin to compete with, just watched in amazement as she made incredible leaps of logic and found solutions no one else saw or threats they'd missed. He wouldn't lie. He missed the days when she only did that from a safe distance, far away from the bad guys she was always chasing now.

She'd killed. In self-defense, but she'd still had to do it, and she was right—it changed her. It changed them.

Jake had no idea how to breach this widening gulf between them. Even now, it hung in the air. She was asleep, peacefully so, but he wasn't. He didn't know how he was going to sleep anytime soon. She still hadn't told him everything, and he knew it. He could feel it, just like he had the sense that the sex hadn't been just about sex, either. She'd spoken afterward, but he found himself wondering if she'd done it just to appease him, giving the bare minimum of conversation to make him think it wasn't about avoidance and leaving him feeling a little used.

Maybe a lot used.

Jake grimaced. This was wrong. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to think like this.

He leaned over and kissed Ellie's temple. “I love you. I don't know how we're going to get through this, but I haven't given up yet. I hope you haven't, either.”

She mumbled something incoherent, and he smiled a little before wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes, hoping to find sleep.


	2. Things Still Kept Hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs returns to work just to find that things have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this will seem familiar because I tried to loop it into part of season thirteen, only the premiere episode though maybe a few pieces more. I'll see. 
> 
> And this ended up kind of combining plots on me, but I think it fits even as much as the one at the end was supposed to be the main one.

* * *

“We're going to be late,” Jake called, and Ellie groaned. She should have said they wouldn't carpool today, but then she didn't want to move. Normally, mornings weren't this hard, but for some reason this one was. “Ellie?”

“Coming,” she muttered, rolling over and getting to her feet. She needed coffee, a good jolt to start her day. She didn't always need it, not like some people, but today was an exception. She walked down the hall into the kitchen, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning,” Jake said, and she sighed, not wanting to fight though it could easily happen this morning. She ran her fingers through her hair as he poured her a cup of coffee. “Should I take this as a sign you're not going into work today?”

She grimaced. “No, I need to go. With Gibbs out, we're shorthanded. Tony's actually doing a good job filling in for him, but if I'm not there, it's just him and McGee, and I can't do that to either of them.”

Jake nodded. She reached over and caught him before he left the room. She didn't want to argue. Things were still strained between them, and she wished she knew how to fix it. That was the reason for the carpool. Spending more time together was supposed to help.

“I'm sorry I'm slow this morning. If you really want to, you can go without me.”

He shook his head. “That's not what I want at all. I like driving in with you. It gives us more time together before starting the day. I always thought that was a good thing, and it seems even more important now.”

“It is,” Ellie agreed, though they still lacked things to talk about with his work still classified. The only difference was that now he was going through the same thing with Gibbs, like she was, neither of them able to tell him anything about their work or what was going on in their efforts to find the Calling. “I will be a few minutes, okay?”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“I'm afraid to ask,” Ellie teased, starting back toward the bedroom. Jake had good fashion sense, everyone said it, but then he had it easy—he wore tailored suits—and the most he might have had trouble with was a bad choice in ties.

“You have no faith,” Jake said. “I'll grab a blouse. You do the rest.”

“What, you're not going to coordinate my underwear?”

Jake flushed. “I think involving me with your underwear is a bad idea. I'll get too distracted.”

Ellie laughed. At least they still had this. If they'd lost it, she'd really think it was over. Only they could still laugh, still tease and flirt—were still attracted to each other. That helped, and it could be what kept them together—if only in part. “The blouse?”

“Here,” he said, passing one to her. She looked down at it, fingering the soft fabric and giving him a look. “I know—you try not to wear the nicer pieces to work because they give you probie hazing, but I've always liked this one.”

“You did buy it for me,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

He smiled back at her. “I know, but we are late, and you know what Tony and McGee will think if we are. You won't hear the end of it for a week.”

“At least,” she agreed, pulling on the blouse. “Will you bring me my brush?”

He nodded, and she did up the buttons, working quickly to finish them. She didn't want to be any later than she had to be, but if she was going to be late, she had to make sure she was as neat and tidy as Jake was. If she wasn't, she would hear about it.

She finished dressing, going for the coffee she'd missed out on earlier. She sipped from it as Jake came back with the brush. She set down the cup and started working on her hair, smoothing it out. “Oh. The fruit basket. We need to get that to Gibbs today.”

Jake grimaced. She knew he didn't want to do it. He'd been against the idea from the beginning, but Gibbs' doctor told them all his dietary restrictions. Fruit was the best option.

She went to pick it up and recoiled, covering her mouth. “Never mind. We can't give that to him. It's gone bad.”

Jake frowned. “It has? We just got that yesterday.”

She nodded, gagging. She had thought it would be better once she got away from the fruit, but it wasn't. She ran to the sink, standing over it for a second, thinking it would pass. It didn't.

“Ellie?” Jake asked, coming over to her side. He touched her arm. “Are you okay? I didn't—the fruit smells fine to me.”

She took in a breath and let it out. “Yeah, I'm fine. Still a bit tired, but it's gone. Don't start, please. You worry too much. You're already driving. It'll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment, still frowning, “but we are not giving Gibbs the fruit basket.”

* * *

“It's amazing how a government memo that was confidential yesterday ends up on the news today,” Tim muttered, shaking his head as he watched the news. North Korea. This was not good, and yet it was hard to think about that when Gibbs was still out recovering and Tony had just been assigned to Shanghai with Officer Teague.

“Well, if I were to don my NSA hat, I'd say the leak probably came from the North Koreans themselves,” Bishop said, and McGee looked over at her. 

“Right. And what good is the chest-thumping if the world can't hear it?” 

“Ruthless dictators do love an audience.” 

Tim felt a strange but familiar sensation, one he hadn't felt in a while, one he knew he should not be feeling now. Not for a few more weeks, though a part of him would be relieved and another part of him fully expected Gibbs to haunt this building for life. He turned around. “Boss?” 

“Gibbs, you're back,” Bishop said, hugging him while Tim stared on, thinking he must be dreaming. She couldn't—shouldn't—do that. Still, Bishop had been a little off, too. Everyone was. “I thought we weren't supposed to see you for another few weeks. I'm sorry we never got that fruit basket to you. Something must have gone off with it.”

“Don't worry about it, Bishop,” Gibbs said, but he gave her an appraising gaze before looking at Tony's desk. “Where's DiNozzo?”

Tim winced. Of course Gibbs would ask that right out the gate. It figured. He always noticed the one thing you didn't want him to see. And a lot of other things, but mostly that.

“Oh. Right,” Bishop said, looking uncomfortable and fingering her blouse as she spoke. It was different from the ones she usually wore, and she was lucky there weren't any garbage cans to go through today. “Uh, you wouldn't have heard. He and Officer Teague are on assignment.” 

“Boss, I'm sorry,” Tim said, giving him an apologetic smile. “They... they pretty much put us under orders. We're not allowed to talk to you about work while you're recuperating.” 

“Oh, yeah. Well, that made for some riveting home visits,” Gibbs muttered. He shook his head. “I'm back. I'm good.” 

Tim wasn't convinced of that, and from the sound of it, neither was Director Vance. “Let me be the judge of that. Take the elevator.”

Gibbs grunted. He headed toward the elevator, clearly annoyed by the suggestion. Tim was glad that he hadn't made it. He looked at Bishop, and she shrugged. She seemed pleased to see him, and he didn't know that she cared about anything else.

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Definitely.”

Tim looked at her, frowning at the tone of her voice. “Something wrong, Bishop?”

She shook her head, but her smile didn't seem very convincing. Tim almost wished that Tony was here. He would like to ask him about the way Bishop had been acting. Maybe he should ask Abby. Or maybe he was making something out of nothing.

He looked over to see Jake coming around the corner. He stopped by Ellie's desk, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She smiled back at him, going over to embrace him, though she held on a lot longer than she had with Gibbs. Stepping back, she looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how you were feeling after this morning,” Jake answered, putting a hand on her arm. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Ellie said. She shrugged. “You have good timing, though. Gibbs is here.”

Jake frowned. “He is? I thought he was still out for a few more weeks.”

“Oh, no, he's here,” Tim added, wondering what exactly had gone on this morning that had Jake coming to NCIS to check on Bishop. “He's with Director Vance now. You could probably talk to him if you want.”

“I'm not sure I can, Tim. I've got meetings all afternoon that I can't get out of, but I did want to squeeze in a short visit just to make sure Ellie was okay.”

“I keep telling you I'm fine,” Ellie said, touching his cheek. “Stop worrying, okay?”

“You know me better than that,” Jake told her, and Bishop nodded before giving him the kind of kiss that would have made Tony start in on all sorts of jokes. Tim figured it was probably better that he'd missed it. Jake stepped back, shaking his head. “You're trying to distract me.”

“And it was working,” Bishop said, smiling at him. He shook his head, but they were both still smiling like idiots.

Tim decided he should excuse himself, since he didn't need to watch this, and they probably didn't want an audience. Tony would have been disgusted, actually. Abby, on the other hand, would be pleased. She'd call it cute. She'd take pictures.

She'd want McGee to take pictures.

Tim was so out of here.

* * *

Stalking out to the bullpen, Gibbs started toward his desk. Soon as he sat down, he found himself looking at an ice pack. He glared at it and then at Bishop. She gave him a small smile of apology, but she didn't stop holding out the pack.

“It's not a fruit basket,” she said giving her husband a look. Malloy's phone conversation didn't seem to be going well. “But it might help.” 

Gibbs grunted, dragging his leg up to the corner of his desk and put the pack on his knee, trying not to think about it. The wound ached, and he didn't want to rest it, give Vance another reason to keep him at the damned desk. That, and doing it might make it more likely that Malloy would have something to say after he got off the phone.

He wasn't the only one taking a call, either. Gibbs looked across at McGee's desk.

“Tony, I sent you those files just after you left, so check your inbox.” 

DiNozzo. Gibbs needed to know what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Well, as a matter of fact,” McGee said, looking over at him. Gibbs gave up on the ice pack. Holding it was a pain in the ass and not even worth it. He moved toward McGee's desk.

“Put him on the speaker.” 

“Please hold for Gibbs,” McGee said, pushing the button. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. Gibbs? He's there?” DiNozzo did not sound pleased to hear from him. “Hey, boss.” 

“Teague with you?” 

“Yeah. We're on our way to meet her contact now.”

Gibbs wanted more information about the contact, about what the hell they were doing in Shanghai. Another reason to talk to Malloy after this. Another reason to be pissed about being left out of the loop. “DiNozzo?” 

“Rule forty-five—I got it.”

Gibbs frowned. That wasn't what he'd said. 

“He was in a crowd,” McGee said, trying to fix things. “Maybe it was tough for him to hear.”

“It's been hard on all of us not catching Budd after all this time,” Bishop added, grimacing. Gibbs didn't look at her. “And never finding Luke.” 

“Been eating at Tony—” 

“I know that,” Gibbs said, cutting McGee off. He didn't need to hear that. What he needed to know was what was going on in Shanghai, what the Calling was doing and how the hell they were going to stop them. He looked over at the other side of the room. Malloy had just ended his call, looking about as frustrated as Gibbs felt.

“Budd's been quiet. Maybe too quiet.”

“Ellie,” Malloy said as he came back across the room. “I'm sorry. So much for lunch, I guess. I've got to get back.”

“It's fine. I'm not that hungry anyway,” Bishop told him, getting a look from McGee for that. It wasn't often that Bishop was without food, but it wasn't a crisis, either.

“Gibbs.” Malloy turned to him with a smile. “It's good to see you back at work.”

“I'd say it was good to be here, but I'm riding a desk,” Gibbs muttered, picking up his phone and his keys from his desk, moving toward the elevator. Malloy gave him a nod. “I'll walk you out.”

Malloy's eyes widened a little, but he didn't protest as he waited for Gibbs to round the desk.

* * *

“You know that just because you're back at work doesn't mean I'll be able to tell you anything I wasn't able to before,” Jake said, giving Gibbs fair warning as he reached over to push the elevator button. The doors opened with a ding. He let Gibbs step in first, well aware that the other man was annoyed by it.

“You shared intel before.”

Jake nodded, hitting the button for the lobby and wondering if Gibbs would stop the elevator. “I did. I gave you everything I had on Russian-Palestinian connections. And you used it.”

“I did,” Gibbs agreed. He didn't elaborate on what he'd used it for, on the fact that it lead to Sergei Michnev's death. Jake might not be the investigator that his wife was, might not have Ellie's sense of paranoia, but even he didn't buy the facts as they'd been so carefully presented by Gibbs and Fornell. He was a lawyer. He read between the lines. He knew that story was a lie. He'd never called them on it, and he didn't think he would.

“I can't help with the Calling,” Jake said. “I haven't heard anything from Shanghai, either.”

Gibbs pulled the button, halting the elevator. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I do,” Jake said, facing him. “It's the truth. Even at the NSA, information is compartmentalized and not even lawyers know everything.”

“That's bull, and you know it. You're the lawyer, damn it—”

“Who has a wife who was investigating the case constituting a clear conflict of interest.”

Gibbs stopped, studying him. “How much of a hit did you take for releasing that drive to us?”

Jake tensed. “It's nothing. Look, I am not read into anything to do with the Calling right now. I haven't seen anything to do with Shanghai for weeks. Probably since they first picked up chatter that linked the Calling to the area. I told you—I can't help you.”

He reached over to restart the elevator, but Gibbs blocked him.

“You didn't mention this before.”

“I'm dealing with it.”

“How?”

Jake sighed. “Look, you rattled a lot of cages when you uncovered terrorist cells recruiting children and a lot more when they started killing our people, and the NSA is no different. Maybe even a little worse for the black eye they got for not spotting the attempted recruitment happening right under their noses.”

Gibbs snorted. “And that falls on your head?”

“I'm glad you're back at work, and you look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you,” Jake told him, restarting the elevator. “But I'm going to be late, and that is not something I can afford to be right now.”

“Bishop know about this?”

“Ellie had enough to worry about with you being shot.”

“That's crap and you know it.” 

“Ellie knows that I haven't been able to give her any information,” Jake said as the elevator doors opened. “And that is how it needs to stay. We're in a good place for the first time in years, and I don't want to lose that.”

“Lies of omission are still lies. She finds out—”

“As soon as you find the Calling, it won't matter,” Jake told him. “Now I really do have to go.”

* * *

“You think he's pumping Jake for information?”

Ellie snorted, shaking her head as she went back to her desk. She flipped through her folders, feeling restless. They didn't have anything to go on right now, and they weren't working any cases without Tony. She could use a distraction, and Gibbs' reappearance could have been that, but it hadn't been so far. 

“Good luck with that. Jake told me he doesn't know anything about the Calling or Shanghai.”

“And you believe him?”

Ellie sat down with a frown, looking over at him. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Maybe because in the past he's withheld information from you?” McGee prompted, making her stomach roll for an entirely different reason. She had thought that was over, had mostly been gone since this morning, but now, with old doubts and insecurities dragged up again, she almost thought she might be sick right here. “You know, not telling you about the chatter and keeping the Korkmaz' computer from us?” 

“Jake got us the computer, though. And he...” Ellie grimaced. She didn't want to do this, to question it, but she had to, didn't she? “We actually have been talking, Tim. Jake's been pretty open about what he has to keep back. If he knows something, he admits at least to knowing about it. If he can, he'll find a way to tell me that doesn't violate any laws.”

“Really?”

Ellie nodded. “I haven't confronted him about it, but I got the feeling that Jake was actually thinking about leaving the NSA before we learned about the Calling and its reach.”

“A feeling?”

“Okay, _more_ than a feeling,” Ellie admitted. “Jake's gotten letters from four different law firms in the last week alone. One of the ones he left out offered him a position with a starting salary that is more than triple what we made last year—combined.”

“You're kidding.”

She shook her head. “No. I'm not. I still have the letter.”

“Wow. You think he'll take it?”

Ellie shrugged. She didn't know. She hoped not, but then she couldn't be sure, either. She'd been waiting for a good time to talk to him about it, but their days kept getting complicated, and she'd actually fallen asleep before he did the last few nights. “I don't know. I just wish we had something to do besides wait for word from Tony.”

“I'm not so sure you do,” McGee said. “Last thing we need now is another crisis.”

* * *

“Do we know anything about this threat from North Korea?”

“You mean, does the NSA?” Jake asked, trying not to grimace. He knew better than to have this conversation, especially after his recent confrontations not only with Gibbs but also with Matthews. Still, it was Ellie. He knew something was going on with her, and he would talk about anything as long as he was able to be sure she was okay.

“Yes,” she said. “I know you probably don't want me to ask, but I have to ask.”

“I know,” Jake agreed. “We've got nothing. No advance chatter, nothing from that sector. We're in the dark, and that is never a good thing.”

He could see the wince on her face even if he wasn't at NCIS any longer. He didn't want to make things worse right now, but he didn't have the answers she needed, didn't have any kind of confirmation for her.

“I need to go. Late for that meeting.” Jake said, grimacing as he saw the last person he wanted to talk to coming up to his office door. Great. “If anything changes, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Ellie said. "Call me later.”

He hung up just as Matthews entered his office. Forcing a smile, Jake reminded himself to keep it simple _and_ civil. That would be a difficult task, but he didn't need to make things harder for himself than they already were.

“Can I help you?”

“I have a few more questions for you.” Matthews said as she sat down across from him. He almost regretted the larger office now, since the one he'd had in his early days was little more than a cubicle, one small hole where he got shut away from the world to puzzle out the law in solitude. If he hadn't met Ellie on his second—no, third—day, he might have gone crazy or quit long ago.

“Such as?”

“Why don't we start with why you were at NCIS today?”

Jake leaned back in his chair. “Are you having me followed?”

“Answer the question.”

“Unless you have actually launched an official investigation, I am under no legal obligation to do so, and I don't feel like indulging your little witch hunt,” Jake told her. “Why are you doing this, Taylor? I thought we were friends.”

“You compromised the agency for your wife.”

“No. I surrendered jurisdiction to another agency,” Jake corrected. “Which I do every day. It's called my job.”

“You have a bias toward NCIS.”

“I do not,” Jake objected immediately. “I can count the times I've worked with them on one hand, whereas I've lost track of how many times I've liaised with Homeland, the FBI, and the CIA.”

“But every time you've given aid to NCIS, your wife's team was involved. That is bias.”

“So is this,” Jake countered. He grabbed his files off his desk and rose, putting them into his briefcase. “Now if you will excuse me, I have another meeting.”

“We're not done, Jake.”

“Oh, we are. Unless you want to explain this to the department of defense.”

* * *

Tim let out a breath, leaning back in his chair. They'd done it. It was finally over. Well, not all of it. He knew that Budd was still out there, but they'd won. This battle was over, and as tired as he was, he knew their long day had been worth it.

He turned to the others, frowning when he saw Bishop. They'd all been here longer than they wanted to be, but the one that should have been showing the signs of it was Gibbs, not Bishop, but Tim swore she looked a bit green in spite of the color of the room.

“Relax, Bishop,” Tim said, patting her on the back. He would have thought she was the one who'd had to stop a possible nuclear war single-handed. Well, not really. He'd had help from Abby and Bishop to get through Dorney's files and to come to the theory that it was Budd, not the North Koreans. Still, he thought she looked shakier than he did, and he'd been at the keyboard. “We did it. Saved the day, stopped a war.”

“Good work, people,” Vance agreed, giving them a smile that was actually echoed by Gibbs for a brief moment.

“Bishop?”

She covered her mouth, rushing over to the trashcan. Tim stared as she puked, not sure how to react to that. She finished, leaning back against the wall.

“Guess Jake was right to check on you earlier,” Tim said. “You're still sick, aren't you?”

“No,” Gibbs said, and Tim stared at him, trying to understand how he could deny the evidence right in front of them. “She's pregnant.”


	3. Confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few reactions to Gibbs' statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I almost changed my mind and went a different direction, but I did want to do this idea after Ready or Not, and I still want to. I just almost took it in just the investigation direction because it's complicated enough without it, but I seem to love making my plots so convoluted they barely make sense.

* * *

Ellie stared at Gibbs, trying to understand the words he'd just said. They were simple. She'd heard them before, and she knew what they meant. She just couldn't believe that they were connected to her. That wasn't possible.

“No,” Ellie said, shaking her head as she forced herself up from the floor. She felt weak, but she wasn't going to sit there and make those words seem more real, true when they weren't. “I'm not pregnant. I've been sick to my stomach off and on all day, yes, but I'm not pregnant.”

“Bishop, maybe you should sit down,” McGee said, and she shook her head. She didn't believe this. Even if she was pregnant—and she didn't think she was—she couldn't believe this was happening here, in front of everyone. If Gibbs was going to make a statement like that, he could have done it when she was alone. This was humiliating. “You still look a little pale.”

She wanted to say she was fine, but she wasn't. Having that, of all things, said in MTAC was making the nausea worse. She knew she was just lucky that Tony hadn't been here to hear it. Her supervisor had said it, the director of her agency had heard it, and so had McGee. “I just need to—”

Her phone rang, cutting her off. She dug it out of her pocket, answering the call without looking at it. “Bishop.”

“Hey,” Jake said, and Ellie did sit down, not prepared to deal with hearing him on the other end after Gibbs' accusation. “My meeting ran late, and I'm sorry I'm only calling now, but I—”

“You still have another one, don't you?”

“Try three,” Jake said, sounding frustrated. “I've tried to reschedule, but two of them cited national security and the third is overseas so it's actually _more_ convenient for them. I am so sorry, Ellie. I can't get out of any of them. Can you get another ride? I hate to ask, but I don't think I'll be home at all tonight.”

Ellie sighed. Not that she was ready to discuss Gibbs' accusation with Jake, but she didn't want to be alone overnight, either. “I'll find another way home. It's fine.”

“It isn't,” Jake said, and he sounded guilty. “I hate this. I—We both promised it was going to be different, but here it is the same all over again.”

“Jake, that's not true,” Ellie said, grimacing as she realized they were watching her. She should leave, but she still felt a little shaky. “We can talk about it later, though.”

“Okay. I love you. And I'm—”

“Don't say you're sorry again,” she said. She wasn't about to repeat the whole ritual now, not with an audience and not after being humiliated earlier, but she wanted Jake to understand that she wasn't mad at him. “Macaroon.”

“You know I'm not actually going out of town,” he said. “That doesn't apply, Pumpkin Pie.”

She laughed. That was good, actually, even if it wasn't intentional. “See you soon.”

She hung up and grimaced, looking over at McGee. She almost asked him for a ride, but then she'd have to sit in the car with him. Alone. He might not be as curious as Tony, but McGee had heard what Gibbs said. He'd been there when Jake came by, worried, and he would want to talk. She didn't.

“Did you need anything else from me?” Ellie asked, getting up. “Because if you don't—”

Vance shook his head. “You're free to go, Bishop.”

* * *

“Boss,” McGee said after Bishop left the room, “did you _have_ to say that?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Symptoms seemed pretty obvious.”

“Not to her,” Vance disagreed, getting a look from both of them. “Her denial says that loud and clear—if she is actually pregnant, she had no idea until you said something.”

Gibbs shook his head. Tim wondered if telling them was a part of proving he wasn't off his game after being shot, wanting to prove that he was still just as good as always. Him picking up on Bishop being pregnant before she even knew—well, it showed he hadn't lost his edge, in either sense. “Didn't know she didn't know.”

“I admit it's something both of us would have had to know eventually, given its potential impact on her ability to do her job and the likelihood of an extended leave in the future,” Vance began, “but it wasn't something that needed to be said here. I know you're in pain. I know you don't want to be at your desk, and I know you're still frustrated by our efforts to find the Calling and Daniel Budd, but don't make me sign you up for sensitivity classes.”

Gibbs grunted. “Won't be necessary, Leon.”

“Better not be,” Vance said. “Both of you go home. We're done here.”

Tim nodded, relieved to be free of the room. He knew it was still awkward, but he wasn't the only one who'd heard that Bishop needed another way home. He wanted to find her, offer her one. That way he could apologize for what he'd heard. He didn't want things to go on being weird between them. He hadn't been the one to say it, and he didn't want to work like this, days on end of tension.

He walked out of MTAC and looked down at the squad room. Bishop wasn't at her desk. She could have called a cab, he supposed, but he hoped she wouldn't. He hurried over to the elevator, deciding to try Abby's lab before assuming Bishop was gone.

He rode down, fidgeting as he did. He didn't exactly want to face Bishop, but he didn't want to leave it like this, either.

The elevator stopped, and he left it, crossing over into the lab just in time to see Bishop over another trashcan. He winced. “Again?”

“Don't say it,” Bishop said, standing up straight. “It's just the chemicals in here. They made the nausea worse.”

“I am _so_ taking you home,” Abby told her, grabbing her coat. “Let's go, Ellie.”

Bishop nodded, covering her mouth. Abby put an arm around her, walking her toward the door. Tim followed, worried. Maybe she was really sick, like he'd thought and she insisted. Or she could actually be pregnant like Gibbs said.

“Maybe you should see Ducky first,” Tim said. “I mean, he is a doctor—”

“No,” Bishop said. “I just want to go home. I don't—I know what Gibbs said, but even if he was right, that wasn't—No. Just _no._ I am going home, I'm going to rest, and I will be better tomorrow.”

“You're sure?”

Bishop nodded. “Home. All I want is to go home.”

* * *

“Should I ask you about the elephant that was in that elevator?” Abby asked, opening the hearse's passenger door for Bishop. She hoped this wasn't going to set her off again. Ellie had barely been in the lab for a minute before she'd started puking. She'd started to say she might need a ride, and then boom, right over the trashcan. And with nothing in her stomach. Abby knew that, too.

Bishop sat down. “Please don't.”

Abby winced, going around to the driver's side. She opened the door and sat down. “Come on, Ellie. You can talk to me. I know you didn't want to talk to McGee, but you saved the day, and you're acting like we lost the war instead of won it. What happened? Is it Tony? Did we get bad news from him and no one wants to say anything? Or was it Gibbs? Did he have a setback?”

“No,” Bishop said, shaking her head. “Tony is fine as far as we know. He's still in Shanghai. And we did stop Budd's stunt with the North Koreans. It was good.”

Abby pulled out of her parking spot. “So this is just because you're sick? Because you got sick in front of them?”

“No,” Bishop said, putting a hand to her head. “I wish it was just that. It would have been embarrassing enough if it was just puking in MTAC.”

“And it wasn't.”

Ellie shook her head. “No, it wasn't. Gibbs told everyone I wasn't sick—I'm pregnant.”

“What?” Abby asked, looking over at her. “Are you? Is there a little Bishop in there?”

Bishop shook her head. “No. At least, I don't think so. I only got sick today. It was just—the fruit basket set me off this morning, and I've been nauseous off and on all day. It's not really likely, but even if it was, having Gibbs say it...”

“Embarrassing?”

“Yes,” Bishop whispered. She looked out the window. “McGee knows. Vance knows. Gibbs knows. Some random computer tech from MTAC knows. Only I didn't know. And Jake doesn't know.”

“Ouch,” Abby said. “Ellie, I'm sorry. That is awful. Are you sure you don't want to see someone? We could go back and talk to Ducky. Or I can run a blood test. Or we can stop and pick something up from the store. Whatever you want.”

“Right now, all I want is to go home and sleep this off,” Bishop said, shaking her head. “Tomorrow I have to come back and face them, but I want a night of peace. I don't—Gibbs could be wrong.”

Abby nodded. It was rare, but it happened. “Okay, but if you really are sick—”

“I'll be fine, Abby. You don't have to worry.”

“You said Jake was going to be gone all night. Let me stay with you. We'll have a slumber party and do each other's nails.”

Bishop laughed. “Jake would be a little weirded out to see black nail polish on my fingers.”

“So? It'll be fun.”

* * *

Jake pressed the button for the elevator, leaning back against the wall. He'd lost his tie somewhere and couldn't remember where the hell he'd put it. He wasn't sure it mattered, but then he couldn't say which one he'd worn yesterday. If it was a gift from Ellie, he'd regret that. Right now, though, it was hard to care.

He'd done long days at work before, and this wasn't anything new, not when he worked where he did, but he felt it more than usual, and he couldn't even say why.

The elevator stopped, and he stepped out, hearing Tony's voice before he even got a foot away from the doors.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Tony said, getting up from his desk. “You look like hell, Malloy, and that's with me just getting off a flight from Shanghai. I think you look worse than I do.”

Jake eyed Tony's suit and clean shaven face, having no real choice but to nod. “I think you're right about that, DiNozzo.”

“If you're looking for Bishop, I hear she's down with Abby. Seems like the carpool thing is catching. Something about a slumber party?”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“You miss things when you're away,” Tony said, nodding thoughtfully. “A lot of things, apparently. Gibbs being back, a fake North Korean threat, Abby and Bishop playing dress up, and a little bit of a bun—”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs barked out, and Jake looked over at his desk, wondering when he'd come into the room or if he'd always been there and Jake just hadn't been paying enough attention. “You got that report?”

“Sure thing, Boss. I will spare no detail on the end of one Daniel Budd.”

“You caught him?” Jake asked, rubbing his head. “That's good. I hadn't heard, but then I have been in meetings since yesterday afternoon. No time to catch up on anything in between or even this morning.”

“Should probably be at home,” Gibbs observed. “There a reason you're not?”

“Here to brief Director Vance,” Jake answered. “So if you will excuse me, I need to get upstairs.”

Gibbs gestured to wave him off, but no sooner had Jake turned to go than he heard a ding followed by his name—again. “Jake!”

“Ellie,” he said, smiling at her. She crossed over to give him, wrapping her arms around him, and he frowned. “I missed you.”

“Same here,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “You should have just gone home, Jake.”

“I have a briefing to give, and then I can go,” Jake told her, touching her cheek. “I was actually hoping you might drive me there. I've been up too long, my stomach is a mess, and I'm not sure it's safe for me to be behind a wheel.”

“Ah ha, I knew it,” Ellie said, giving Gibbs a look, and Jake could only frown at her again. She shook her head. “I'll explain later. I'm pretty sure they can spare me for a bit, though. Today's been quiet, which is nice.”

“Might not stay that way,” Gibbs said. “Especially since you're here, Malloy.”

Jake forced a smile. “I don't know that what I have to tell Vance will impact any of you. It might not. You'll have to see what he decides. That's not my call.”

She nodded. “I'll be here when you get back.”

“And I'm sure you'll have lots to talk about,” Tony said, and Jake looked over at him with a frown. Ellie glared at him, and Jake looked between everyone, confused. He did not understand.

“DiNozzo.”

“Shutting up now, Boss.”

Jake didn't like this. “What is going on? Is there something I should know about? Because I really don't—”

“You and I will talk later,” Ellie promised him, “and I will explain why everyone is being so... annoying. Just go brief Vance, and when you get back, I'll take you home. We _will_ talk.”

Jake nodded, leaning over to kiss her forehead. He really did need to get out of here, and the constant dinging from the elevators was not helping his headache any. He would have sworn both of them went off at the same time, and that was enough to make his head throb.

“Ah, young Jakob,” Ducky said as he came up to them, still wearing his coat and hat. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Jake stared at him. He didn't know of anything in his life that merited congratulations. He finally had what he needed to be able to give the NSA notice—they'd caught Budd, stopped the Calling, so he no longer had to hold onto this position for what little intel he might scrounge up, and that would free him up to find something that would allow him and Ellie to actually talk, but as far as he knew, no one was even aware he was considering that, not even her. And it wasn't like Matthews had backed off, either. He would be leaving the agency under a bit of a cloud if he did it now, but he didn't want to lose Ellie, and he knew it wasn't enough to tell her he couldn't tell her what he knew. They needed to be able to talk and not just about her work.

“I'm sorry, what?”

Ducky looked at Ellie, and she shook her head. “Oh, my goodness. You have my sincerest apologies, Elanor. I did not realize that the rumor mill was so far ahead of—”

“What are you all talking about?” Jake demanded. “And don't tell me to wait until we get back home because that is not enough now.”

Ellie swallowed. “Someone said something yesterday which is apparently all over the office by now. It's just a rumor, and I was going to tell you—”

“Actually, it's not just a rumor,” Abby said, joining them from the other side of the room. She handed Ellie a piece of paper with an apologetic smile. “This just finished, Ellie. I figured you wanted the results sooner rather than later, so I brought them with me.”

“Again,” Jake repeated, getting frustrated. “Someone tell me what is going on.”

Ellie stared at the paper, eyes wide. She swallowed, forcing herself to look at him. “I'm pregnant.”


	4. The Beginning of Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie and Jake react to Abby's test results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will try and add a bit of case work into this story. Much more interesting that way, I hope. I don't know how good that is, but I've never been that great at writing a story about just one thing. I always add in too much. Or I used to, but I'm going back to that bad habit.

* * *

“Pregnant?”

Jake's voice came out with a slight squeak at the end, one that made Tony smile, but Ellie could only wince as she heard it. This was all wrong. One, the timing was far from great. They hadn't planned this. She was still learning to be an agent, and this would take her out of the field. She felt like she should have known, and she hadn't. Gibbs had, but she hadn't. She hadn't had any time to prepare, not really, and she'd been blindsided by it twice now. Worse, Jake had been, too. She'd wanted time to know what to say—if there even _was_ something to say—and she hadn't gotten it. Jake should not have heard it like that.

She crumpled the paper in her hand. “I...”

Jake shook his head. “No. I can't—I have to go brief Vance. I—This—Not now.”

He backed away, stumbling a bit on his way to the stairs. Ellie covered her face with her hand, shaking her head. She wasn't sure that could have gone much worse.

“And cue the panic,” Tony said, shaking his head as he watched Jake leave. “That was almost a record. I've seen people accused of murder who didn't run as fast.”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said in warning as he came to stand behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He's tired. He's in shock. Give it time.”

“It wasn't supposed to be like that,” Ellie said. “I didn't even know, but I was going to—I had the test done. I would have found out, and once I knew what to tell him, I'd have done it. Not here. Not now. I would have made sure he got some sleep first. I would have made sure he was ready to hear it. I couldn't do any of that.”

“I am truly sorry, Elanor,” Ducky said, remorse all over his face. “I did not realize that Jakob was unaware of your condition. If I had known, I would not have said what I did.”

“And I really should have waited with that,” Abby said, pointing to the paper. “I just thought you would want the results as soon as possible, and not over the phone.”

“And before you get all angry face,” Tony said, defensive, “why didn't anyone tell us he didn't know? I mean, we all had fun teasing Palmer before he became Dad of the Year, but I wouldn't have done anything to Jake if I knew he didn't know.”

“I'm not so sure I believe that, Tony,” McGee said. “You would have loved tormenting someone who didn't know.”

“No, I'd have teased _Bishop_ about her husband not knowing until she told him, and that would have been fun,” Tony said, flashing her a grin. “Might have made a few veiled comments in his hearing, but not like this.”

“I know,” Ellie said, struggling to keep her voice even. “I know none of you meant for that to happen, but it doesn't change that it did. Jake should not have had to find out that way.”

“Take him home. Take the day. Deal with what you have to,” Gibbs told her, and she nodded, going back to her desk, sitting down. Gibbs said Jake was in shock, but he wasn't the only one. Ellie didn't know what to think.

She was pregnant. Yesterday she'd thought it wasn't possible. Technically, it was. She knew she and Jake had been intimate, and not just one or two isolated times. So it was possible. It just seemed so unlikely. She hadn't been sick, hadn't noticed any other symptoms until that day. Now she could say that she'd been tired, more so than usual, but even that didn't seem like enough to say that she was pregnant. If she hadn't thrown up and gotten Gibbs to assume she was, she wouldn't even have gotten a test. She didn't believe it.

“It's kind of cool,” Abby said, and Ellie looked up at her. She shrugged. “You have a little Bishop in there. Our team is growing.”

“Is it little Bishop or little Malloy?” Tony asked. “Or is it both?”

Ellie grimaced, not sure how to answer that at all, and then she had to lean over her trashcan, puking up what little she'd had for breakfast. She put her head down on her desk and groaned.

* * *

“Mr. Malloy,” Vance said, giving him a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Not a fight over jurisdiction this time, I can promise you that,” Jake said, though his sense of humor wasn't doing very well under the circumstances. Had he really heard what he thought he just heard, or was this all some sort of nightmare, and he'd wake up back at the desk in his office having fallen asleep in the middle of his last meeting?

“Must be serious,” Vance observed. “To bring you here in this state. You sure you're feeling well? If this isn't an emergency, I'm sure it can be postponed.”

“I'm fine. Just coming off a long night of meetings and something happened downstairs that is a bit surreal and makes me think I fell asleep on my feet, but if I thought this could be delayed, I wouldn't have come here,” Jake told him, getting a nod from the other man.

He sat down across from the director. He opened his briefcase and took out the file. He opened it, making sure he'd grabbed the right one before passing it over to Vance. “The NSA has picked up chatter on a new terrorist threat.”

Vance took the file, holding it in his hands. “And this particular one merits an in person meeting over any of the others? We just got done dealing with the Calling.”

“And as twisted as they were and as appalling as it was for us that they used children to do their dirty work, this may be worse, and it is specifically targeted against military personnel. They are not after active service members who have been involved in enemy action. If you have ever worn the uniform, you are a target. They took responsibility for killing two veterans of the Korean War earlier this week.”

“What purpose does murdering older veterans serve? Who the hell would respect them for killing old men?”

“You'd have to ask a psychiatrist or an analyst for that answer. That's well beyond my realm of expertise,” Jake answered. “It may be that they want to say that no one is safe—that's a common enough rhetoric or they thought it would be easy to exploit their older victims, but they've also killed a few reservists in the last month as well.”

“Damn,” Vance said. He lifted the file. “This is extremely thin.”

“So far, the NSA has a name and the kills they've claimed and not much else. There's a bit of conflict over whether this is a genuine threat or not, which is part of why I suggested that sending the information to agencies like yours was the best course of action. You can get confirmation that the NSA lacks and seems unwilling to expend resources on.”

“Are you supposed to be telling me that?”

Jake thought over his last words. “Probably not.”

Vance almost smiled. “Then I think I appreciate your candor.”

“As it stands, director, there's no way I could make a legal case for it, but the deaths are spread out between branches of the military and the national guard, and so far, only the NSA is aware of the chatter and the possible pattern,” Jake said, rubbing at his forehead. “The name they use translates to the equivalent of 'the blood is still on their hands.' That means that anyone who is former military is at risk with no rhyme or reason for it other than past service. It has the potential to be an extreme threat—or another false alarm, just like any other bit of chatter.”

“But you don't think so.”

Jake looked at the other man. “I think that there are several highly placed members of civilian agencies and political offices who once served, yourself included. If this threat is legitimate, it could escalate to those in these positions and create the kind of chaos some of the other terrorists only dreamed of creating.”

“So we need to disprove their claims or stop them fast.”

Jake nodded. “Yes, and frankly I feel your agency is better suited to that, though I'll deny that if I'm asked.”

Vance smiled. “Of course.”

“I am supposed to be impartial,” Jake said as he rose. “Still, I hope this isn't a complete waste of any of our time, Director. For all our sakes.”

“So do I.”

* * *

“Ellie?”

“I don't care who is dead,” Ellie muttered, not looking up from her arms. She did not want to set her stomach off again. “I am not moving. If I move, I will apparently vomit, and I am tired of vomiting.”

“Well, there goes the idea of convincing myself I was asleep standing up this morning,” Jake said, and Ellie lifted her head to look at him. He grimaced, still a mess from lack of sleep. “I am not going to discuss how that meeting just went. I think I made a fool of myself.”

She nodded, swallowing down the stuff threatening to come up her throat. “I'm sorry. I didn't even know myself, not for sure, and that was not how I was going to tell you.”

Jake shrugged. “I kind of think our life falls into the category of comedy of errors sometimes. Or have you forgotten that camping trip?”

She blushed. “No, I haven't. That is... That will live on in infamy for the rest of our lives. We are just lucky that Tony and McGee have never met anyone they could get the story out of.”

“You do realize that if this morning's announcement is true, then your family will actually get on a plane and come here, and there's a good chance that your brothers will bond with DiNozzo. I think they'd like him a lot better than me.”

“Jake—”

“Don't. I'm not in the mood for sugarcoating today. I'm tired, I'm overworked, and I'm overwhelmed. I know you are, too, and I don't want to fight about it, but you know your brothers have never once felt I was good enough for you.”

“Because no one is good for their little sister,” Ellie said, grimacing as she tried to rise. “Not again. I refuse to do this again.”

Jake came around her desk and wrapped his arms around her, holding on as she fought off the nausea. This was familiar, too, though she'd only had food poisoning at the time, and she'd warned him he'd ruin his suit if he kept holding her, and he did, but he'd gotten her back to her apartment and taken care of her until it was over, and he'd even still married her after it was all over.

“I think you should come home with me.”

“That was the plan. Gibbs told me to take the day. I'm just not so sure I'm the one that should be driving.”

“I'll do it,” Jake said. “I'm not throwing up, just a little tired. As long as you keep me awake, we should be fine.”

“I'll do it,” Gibbs said, and both of them jumped.

“Gibbs, with all due respect,” Jake began. “I've driven with you, and I don't think it's a good idea in Ellie's current state.”

“Headed that way anyway. Got a dead reservist in your building.”

“I thought you were riding a desk,” Ellie said, but her frown turned on Jake. “What's wrong? The minute Gibbs said that, you tensed up again, and it's not like we know our neighbors that well. That place was just supposed to be our stopping ground until we found the house we could never agree on, remember?”

Jake nodded. “I know, and it is. It's probably nothing. Let's just go. If I can get a couple hours of sleep, I'll get a cab to get my car.”

Ellie leaned against him as they walked to the elevator. She wanted to say she'd come back in a few hours herself, but she already knew that her morning sickness wasn't reserved for the morning alone.

* * *

“Now I thought that we wouldn't be seeing the newly maternal Bishop for a while,” Tony said, standing in the doorway to their crime scene and watching the late arrivals show. He shouldn't be that surprised to see Gibbs making up the rear. Vance might have told him he was riding a desk, but Tony hadn't believed he would for a second. “Wouldn't a crime scene be a very bad idea for you right now?”

“Yes, actually,” Bishop agreed, eying the door warily.

“But this is home,” Jake said, reaching around her to unlock the door across from where Tony stood. “So...”

“So this was your neighbor,” Tony said, taking out his notebook. “Interesting. What do you know that we should know?”

Bishop started to answer, but she ended up putting a hand over her mouth and rushing into her apartment. Jake looked after her with a worried frown, but he stayed where he was, probably because Gibbs was watching him.

“We don't know him that well. I think we've bumped into Mark a few times—getting the mail, opening doors. He borrowed a few of my books. We got on the subject of legal thrillers—I read them to point out inaccuracies. Ellie thinks it's funny—and he asked to borrow a few. Other than that, I can't tell you much. I wasn't home at all last night, and that's not that uncommon an occurrence.”

“We need more, we'll ask,” Gibbs told him, and Jake nodded, going into his apartment and shutting the door.

“Do we get to treat Bishop and her husband as possible suspects?” Tony asked, getting a glare from Gibbs. “I'm kidding. Judging from the way he reacted at the airport, I have a hard time seeing Malloy use a gun, and that is definitely what our killer used.”

Gibbs nodded, going into the other apartment where Ducky and Palmer were still over the body and McGee was taking pictures. “What've we got, Duck?”

“Two shots to the chest. Almost certainly what killed him,” Ducky answered. “Unfortunately for this young man, they were not instantaneously fatal. He made an effort to crawl toward the phone, but he did not make it.”

Gibbs looked at Tony. “Anyone hear anything?”

“Starting a canvas, boss,” Tony told him, going out into the hall. He ignored Bishop's door and went to the next one, though judging from the income bracket that these apartments required—Malloy's car was nothing shabby—almost everyone was going to be gone, out working on the beltway.

Still, it was pretty interesting that their murder victim lived right across from Bishop.

* * *

“I can't believe he's dead.”

“Probably best if you don't think about it,” Jake said, pulling off his jacket and then his shirt, leaving them on the chair to take to the dry cleaners later. He was worried—not just by another reservist turning up dead but also by how this pregnancy seemed to be effecting her. Ellie was strong—no question she was the stronger of the two of them—but in a little less than a day, she seemed beaten down, too tired to do anything but wait for the next time she had to puke.

“I know,” Ellie agreed, stopping at her dresser and changing into one of her t-shirts. “I just... He seemed like a nice guy.”

“I thought so, too,” Jake agreed, pulling on a t-shirt of his own and crossing over to close the blinds, making the room dark.

“It's just so weird. Our neighbor is dead.”

Jake grimaced at her tone, kicking off his shoes and socks, throwing the socks in the hamper while she stared at the curtains. She was starting to obsess over it. She wasn't going to be doing any sleeping, not now that her mind was going mile a minute. He took off his suit pants, added them to the dry cleaning pile, and pulled on a pair of sweats before going to her side.

“I am going to try and sleep now,” he told her. “Under other circumstances, I would be up annoying you with things to soothe your stomach and trying to get you to sleep, but I don't have any energy left—”

“It's fine. I'm going to lie down with you.”

“No, you're not,” he said, and she frowned at him. “Ellie, you started doing that thing you do when you're analyzing, and you'll wake me every two minutes with a new thought if you try and sleep. Please, don't do that to us. Just... work on the computer if you think you can without throwing up on it.”

She came toward him, still frowning. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

She gave him a look. “Um, try the fact that I'm pregnant and you found out about it like you did, maybe? Or any of another hundred reasons. It's not like we were lying to ourselves about having problems. We both knew we were. Are, even.”

Jake took her into his arms and leaned his head against hers. “Ellie, I love you. And while we didn't have this planned, I always thought that when the time came, we'd have kids. It scares me, bringing them up in a world like this, where we see evil every day, and it scares me even more to know that you will be working while you're pregnant, but that doesn't mean I'm angry. I'm worried. I am. There are so many things that could go wrong, so many things that complicate what we have and bringing a child into that mess we haven't completely fixed yet... I'm still... I don't know what I think, to be honest. It's too much right now. I want to sleep and after that, then I'll try and wrap my head around the implications of all this.”

“Okay,” she said, stepping back to kiss his cheek. She gave him a smile before yawning. “I could probably sleep.”

“You're going to keep me awake.”

“You don't really mind that.”

He sighed. That was the trouble—sometimes he didn't. Sometimes her obsessive mutterings were charming, and he could listen to her all night even if he was trying to sleep. Sometimes it annoyed him to where he snapped at her and would willingly have shoved her out of the bed.

“I really need to sleep.”

“Without me.”

Jake shook his head, knowing he was going to regret this. “No, not without you.”


	5. A Possible Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie's still sick, and the others are working a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a doctor or healthcare professional. Everything I know, I either read about online or watched on tv. And I've never had kids of my own, though I have had plenty of babysitting experience over the years.
> 
> Still, I'm probably wrong about the details. I just wanted the sort of cuteness of Ellie being taken care of by Jake.

* * *

“Hmm. What time is it?”

“About two in the afternoon,” Jake answered, buttoning up his shirt. He'd already showered and was feeling considerably more human and alive now, which he wanted to say was a good thing but didn't entirely feel, either. He still couldn't get over how this day had gone. A part of him had yet to accept that Ellie was actually pregnant, and the rest of him was running wild with fears and worst case scenarios.

“Already?”

He snorted, reaching for his suit jacket and pulling it on. “You did keep both of us up until almost noon with comments about Mark. I'm just fortunate that last round of puking took enough out of you to make you sleep for almost two hours.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not like I didn't know what I was doing,” Jake told her, grabbing a tie and wrapping it around his neck. “Or like you didn't need the sleep.”

Ellie curled up on her side, arm around her stomach. “I read that some women have morning sickness all the way to the end, and even if they don't—it doesn't usually end before at least sixteen weeks. I have no idea how far along I am. If it stays like this, I won't be able to work.”

Jake had thought about that himself, and while a part of him might be relieved by it, the rest of him was already worried. This could be a complication already or it might be nothing. He didn't know. “We will call your doctor and get you an appointment as soon as possible, and I will pick up some saltines, ginger ale, and peppermint tea on my way home.”

“How long are you going to be?”

He frowned. “Do you need me to stay? I can call them back and say that I won't be able to make it in. It was mostly paperwork today, no meetings, nothing I can't reschedule.”

“I'm fine. Just tired,” she said, shaking her head. “You don't have to stay.”

“I think I might. You want me to call Abby or Ducky? Abby can stay with you, or Ducky could examine you—”

“No,” Ellie said, reaching out a hand to him. “Go to work. I will be fine. I'm just going to lie here and get some more sleep if I can.”

“I don't like leaving you alone when you look so miserable,” Jake said, sitting down beside her. He touched her face, brushing back some of her hair. “There has to be something I can do, and I don't mind staying.”

“I shouldn't ask,” Ellie began, “but... hold me?”

* * *

“You got anything for us yet, Abby?”

She turned, staring down McGee and then Tony in turn. Neither of them were Gibbs, and if they were, they would have appeared just when they should have. Tony had almost gotten good at that timing once, but something had slipped. She should force him to get it back. She'd work on that later.

“Not yet,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “Major Mass Spec has yet to give me a report. What have you two got?”

“Not much. There was no forced entry, no sign of anyone else in the apartment. His lease only lists him, and as far as anyone knows, he was single, but we have yet to find anyone who knew him well, period,” McGee answered. “Judge was one of two surviving members of his unit. The other one died two years ago of cancer. He was an only child, parents died before he went into the marines.”

“Which means we may have to get back in touch with the neighbor who is his BFF as well as that of Gibbs,” Tony said, and McGee gave him a look.

Abby frowned. “What?”

“Jake and Bishop live across from our murder victim,” McGee explained. “It doesn't make them BFFs. I don't think he's half as close to his neighbor as Tony thinks he is.”

“Poor Bishop,” Abby said, shaking her head. “I still feel bad about this morning. And she looked so sick when she left. Jimmy told me about Breena's morning sickness, but he said Bishop's sounds ten times worse.”

“It is supposed to vary from woman to woman,” McGee said, and Tony gave him a look. He shrugged. They were about to get into it when Abby's phone rang interrupted them. She reached over and hit the speaker button.

“You're early, Gibbs.”

“Well, then,” Jake said, “I guess it's a good thing I'm not Gibbs.”

“Jake,” Abby said, grinning as she leaned over her desk. This was just what she needed. She'd wanted to call anyway, but now she didn't have to. “How's Bishop? And little Bishop?”

“Um... I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that appellation,” Jake began, and he did sound bothered by it, but all Abby could do was shrug. She didn't know what else they'd call the baby until Jake and Ellie picked out names and knew if it was a boy or a girl. “However, that is what I'm calling about. About Ellie, I mean. She's been sick on and off all day again, and she can't keep anything down. And neither of us has made it to the store lately—not that Ellie buys much other than junk food—so we're out of anything that she should try and eat now, with the last of the soup coming up a few minutes ago. I was going to pick up some stuff on my way home, but Ellie's so bad I couldn't leave her. She says she's not going to to the doctor, which I'm still arguing, but in the meantime... Do you think it might be possible for you or someone else to bring a few things by?”

“Of course,” Abby said. “Anything for you and Ellie. You're family. Tell us what you need.”

“Us?”

“Hi, Jake,” Tony and McGee said, and Abby heard him groan on the other end of the line.

“Just tell us what you need,” Abby said. “We will get it to you.”

“Saltines, ginger ale, peppermint tea, broth,” Jake answered. “Maybe some Gatorade. I'm not really sure what all she should have. You can ask Ducky for suggestions for more—oh, Ellie, not again. I have to go.”

The dial tone sounded over the speaker, and Abby reached over to shut it off.

“Looks like we're going shopping, McGee.”

“What?”

“You heard him. Bishop needs us.”

“Sounds like she needs Ducky,” McGee said. “We can give him the list and let him go. That's a much better idea. Gibbs won't want us to spend time we should be using to investigate to go shopping.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, McQueasy. We need to ask Jake about his neighbor anyway. Let's go.”

* * *

“It takes two of you two deliver groceries?” Jake asked, opening the door with a frown. Tony took in the clothes and almost frowned himself. Was that the odor of vomit he detected? Had Bishop managed to catch her husband with her last upchuck? They might need to ask him to change.

McGee shook his head, still pouting. “No, it doesn't. I said we should just send Ducky, but Tony insisted on us coming.”

“Ignore McWhiny Pants over there,” Tony said, holding up his bag of goodies. “I think he's afraid it's catching.”

“That's ridiculous,” Jake said, leading them into the kitchen. “Ellie is pregnant, not contagious.”

“Oh, but that's the fear, isn't it? First Mrs. Autopsy Gremlin, then Bishop, and Delilah could be next. Little Timothy is terrified,” Tony said, dodging McGee's attempt to hit him. Jake shook his head, taking the bag from Tony and setting it on the counter, sorting it out.

“I am not. You don't even—Delilah might not be capable of—it's not an issue.”

Jake carried the Gatorade over to the refrigerator, opening the door. “You know, Tim, the paralysis doesn't automatically negate the possibility of Delilah having kids. They don't stop having their normal cycles just because they've been injured, and I think you already know that she's capable of still enjoying intimacy. There are risks of complications, of course, but paralysis isn't even a guarantee that she'd have to deliver by cesarean.”

“I...” McGee swallowed. “How do you know all that?”

Tony nodded. “Have to admit, I'm curious, too.”

Jake winced. “I'm not sure I want to know why you'd think I'd know that, but one—I heard about the incident where you answered McGee's video call. For another, my mother's cousin actually had two children after her paralysis. When we were little, we were rude enough to ask how that was even possible. Believe me—that's a lecture that still rings in my ears.”

“And there you go disappointing us by making it all... normal,” Tony said, leaning against the counter. “Never mind. I'd ask how Bishop was, but your shirt is kind of telling that story.”

Jake sighed, tugging at the offending garment with a grimace. “To be honest, I'm not so sure it's the shirt. But, yes, she's still having trouble keeping anything down, even water.”

“You think any of this is going to help?”

“Well, our housekeeper swore by peppermint tea,” Jake said, going to the stove and picking up the teapot, carrying it over to the sink to fill it. “I don't know if it will or not, but I'm willing to try anything I can. I hate seeing her so miserable and feeling so helpless.”

“That's only going to get worse,” Tony told him as he put the pot back on the burner. “You're going to be a dad.”

Jake turned back from the stove. “Aren't you in the middle of a case? My neighbor was murdered, wasn't he?”

“And that is actually why we came,” Tony said. Jake frowned. “Seems no one knows your friend Mark very well. Or at all.”

“He wasn't my friend,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I barely knew the man. Ellie and I have only lived here since the end of the summer. He got our mail a few times, we got his. Exchanges were made, waves and nods, but nothing more than that. I've never been inside his apartment. He hasn't been in ours.”

“That still seems to be more than anyone else has talked to him,” McGee said. “We've had a hard time finding anyone who knows him at all.”

Jake shrugged. “I'm not sure what I can tell you. We never discussed anything that personal. I think once he asked how long Ellie and I had been married...”

“Something wrong?” Tony asked, picking up on the tone of Jake's voice at the end of his words.

Jake flushed. “Well, that was after Ellie and I had a rather loud argument that ended with door slams and one awkward conversation in the hallway. I don't even remember what it was about, but I do remember seeing him coming out of his apartment at just the wrong moment.” 

“I bet,” Tony said.

“What about his movements?” McGee asked. “Did he have a routine? Was he always in or out on certain days or times? Did he work day shift, night shift?”

“I have no idea,” Jake said. “You know how little Ellie is home, and my schedule is almost more erratic than hers at times. I couldn't tell you anything about his habits. I don't know what he did for a living, either.”

“You really only discussed books?”

“He dropped a copy of a John Grisham novel while getting his mail. I picked it up for him, told him that I didn't care much for it myself—it's not terrible, but not his best—and he started talking about the changes they made for the movie, and I said something about how unrealistic that was, but that half the time when I read books about lawyers it was just to point out the inaccuracies and Ellie thought it was funny if I got worked up about them. He asked me about another author, I offered him the books, and he still had them weeks later.”

“Slow reader?”

“I guess.” Jake went to the cupboard, taking out a plastic plate. He set it on the counter and opened up a package of crackers, spreading them over its surface. “I wasn't in a hurry to get them back, so I didn't care.”

“And you can't think of anything else? Any reason why anyone would want him dead?”

Jake tensed. “I—Did Vance read you into anything today?”

“No.”

“Then no. I have no idea,” Jake answered, and Tony exchanged a look with McGee, frowning.

“Okay, that was obviously a lie.”

Jake picked up the plate of crackers. “I can't tell you anything. You know that. I'm sorry. Now I'm going to take this in to Ellie. I think you can see yourselves out.”

* * *

“Gibbs.”

“Just got done talking to Jake about our victim,” DiNozzo reported. “He didn't know much—except he apparently knows something classified that we don't, which could be the reason our reservist is dead.”

Gibbs grunted. Vance had filled him in on the possible threat, but he hadn't told anyone else, wanting to see what the investigation got them instead of assuming it was terrorists. Vance said the intel wasn't confirmed, and until it was, Gibbs was going to treat this death like any other murder.

“Do you know something, Boss?” McGee asked. “Because we have nothing—”

“Or something,” DiNozzo interrupted. “Huh. That's weird.”

“What's weird? I don't even know what you're talking about. Were you listening to some other conversation than I was? Because I didn't get the sense that Jake was lying—he admitted he knew something but that he couldn't tell us—and he didn't tell us anything we could use about our victim. We've got—are you seriously ogling that woman? I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“Not ogling, McGee. I just know I've seen her before.”

“You say that about everyone.”

Gibbs shook his head. He wanted to reach out and slap them both through the phone. “Focus. Dead reservist.”

“We still haven't found anyone who knew him,” McGee said. “It looked like Jake was our best bet there, but he wasn't. We don't know anything more than we did before—though from the sound of it, Bishop won't be in tomorrow, either.”

“It is bad,” DiNozzo agreed. “Don't envy Jake that one bit.”

“What about Judge's work? He had to afford that apartment somehow,” Gibbs said. He knew the rent wasn't cheap. Malloy had let something slip about it starting to eat into their savings for the house they never managed to find.

“No answer, and the office was closed when we went by,” McGee answered. “We'll have to try again in the morning. Tony, why are you taking her picture?”

“I know I saw her before,” DiNozzo insisted. “Pretty sure she was at NCIS when we left earlier. I want to know why, and since we don't have anything on Mark Judge—”

“Get an id on the woman,” Gibbs muttered, hanging up on them.

* * *

“How is she?” Ducky asked, though he thought he could see part of that for himself in Jakob. The fatigue and disorder said plenty.

“She lost the tea and the crackers,” Jakob answered, letting Ducky into the apartment. “I am glad you came. She keeps insisting that she's just pregnant, not dying, which is probably true, but seeing her like this is hard, and I don't know that I believe she'll be fine.”

“Regretfully, you may be right,” Ducky said, taking off his coat. Jake took it from him, hanging it up in the closet near the door. “There is a chance she has a more severe form of morning sickness known as hyperemesis gravidarum.”

Jakob swallowed. “How severe is severe?”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We don't know anything at present. Her symptoms did come on rather suddenly and may actually be the result of Elanor's unique eating habits rather than as true cause for concern. It is possible all she needs is a change of diet.”

“Which would be fine if she could keep anything down, but she's not even managing that with liquids. Not water, not tea, not the Gatorade. I've exhausted my knowledge of home remedies for nausea, and nothing seems to help.”

“When was the last time she was able to eat anything?”

“I'm not sure,” Jakob admitted. “Nothing today or yesterday, and I don't know what she had the day before. She didn't tell me what she ate while she was at work, and I didn't ask.”

Ducky frowned. It was too soon to be certain of anything, though he did not like what he was hearing. “It may be prudent to get her in for some intravenous fluids. Those could stabilize her condition and allow us to see what we are actually dealing with.”

“In that case, maybe you can convince her to go in. She keeps insisting that she doesn't need to, but I have never seen her like this, not even when she had food poisoning. She can't rest, either, because as soon as she settles, she's throwing up again.”

“Poor thing. Let me see the patient,” Ducky told him, and Jakob led him back into the bedroom. He turned on the light, wincing at the sudden change. Going around to the other side of the bed, he knelt down next to her.

“Ellie? Ducky's here. He'd like to look at you.”

“Bowl,” she said, and Jakob grabbed it, holding it for her as she vomited into it, combing back her hair and muttering soothing inanities. When she finished, he helped her lie back and wiped her face off before taking the bowl into the other room to empty it.

“Elanor, I am concerned by the amount of times you seem to be vomiting,” Ducky said as he drew closer to the bed. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Lunch?”

“That doesn't count. That soup came back up ten minutes later,” Jakob called from the other room before the faucet came on and drowned out anything else he might have said.

Elanor shook her head. “Jake brought lunch to me at work.”

Jake returned to the room with the bowl in time to hear that. “Ellie, that was the day before yesterday. You didn't have anything after that? Not even a snack?”

She shook her head tiredly. “Was full. Didn't need it.”

“Yes, well, I'm afraid you need much more than that now,” Ducky told her. “I think it best we get you an IV before you get dehydrated further. Do you think you can stand?”

“Every time I try to sit up, I puke,” she said. “I don't want to move. Ducky, if it's just morning sickness, it's going to go away, right?”

“It last weeks, my dear, and in extreme cases, even lingers after birth,” Ducky said, and she groaned. “I still believe an IV is the best course of action now. Once we stabilize you, we can see if any further adjustments are necessary, but we won't be certain until we can stop or at least halt the vomiting.”

“If you promise not to laugh at me, I'll try and carry you,” Jakob offered.

She frowned, eying him with suspicion. “You almost dropped me last time.”

“That was your fault,” he insisted, cupping her cheek. “You made me laugh and I almost tripped over my own feet.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Is that really why you never tried again?”

“No,” he answered, easing her up and into his arms. “You're always so strong. You never seemed to need it. Or me.”

“That is so not true,” she whispered, leaning her head against his chest. “I may puke on you again, though.”

“It won't be the first time.”


	6. No Relief for the Weary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case seems to have stalled, and Ellie still isn't better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had most of this written, then went back and changed my mind about it. One scene ended up cut, another pushed for later, and I think it's better this way.
> 
> Though, again, it's not the story I thought I was writing when I started. They never go quite as planned.

* * *

“All I'm saying is that it's too soon for anything, Tony,” McGee said as they walked down the hospital corridor. “And considering what you bought Jimmy and Breena for their baby shower, I think it's a really bad idea.”

“Can't go wrong with this, or so I was assured by the very lovely Debbie,” Tony told him, taking out his gift. He didn't know much of anything about babies, but he'd gotten good advice, and he figured it was a sure thing this time.

“Bishop hasn't even had a real doctor's visit yet,” McGee said. “I don't know if you realize this, but most women who miscarry do it within the first trimester. She could still lose it. It really is too soon to be giving gifts.”

“Well, listen to you, McDaddy. Been doing your research, have you? Planning for your turn at the big day?”

“Shut up, Tony. You know we should be working, and Bishop probably doesn't even want us to come. Gibbs will be mad, and we're not going to do anything useful while we're there, so we shouldn't waste any more time.”

“You're still scared it's catching,” Tony told him, and McGee groaned as Tony pushed open the door to Bishop's room. “Heya, Bish. How's our favorite mommy-to-be?”

“Shh,” she said, putting a finger to her lips and nodding her head down to her lap. Jake was slumped over her bed from his chair, head on her and fingers wrapped in hers. “He just fell asleep. It was a long night.”

“I bet,” Tony said, reminding himself to get out his phone and get some photos for later. Abby would love them.

“How are you feeling?” McGee asked, sheepish now that he was in the same room with Bishop and a bunch of medical machines.

“Tired. And I could go the rest of my life without puking,” Bishop said wearily. “It didn't seem like it was going to stop, but maybe the medication is finally working.”

“I'd hope so. If not, Jake is really going to regret where he's sleeping.”

“No, I'll aim for your shoes first,” Bishop said. She reached over to comb through her husband's hair with a smile, closing her eyes.

“We should let you get some rest,” McGee said. “And Gibbs will want us working on our case.”

“Yes, I do,” Gibbs said from the doorway, making McGee wince. Tony just shrugged. He didn't like dealing with puke, but he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to tease Bishop some. Her impending motherhood was going to make the next few months very fun. “Doesn't look like much of an office to me.”

Bishop forced a smile. “Sorry, Gibbs. They're keeping me for another day of observation.”

“Seriously?” McGee asked. “It's just morning sickness, right?”

She shook her head. “There is a potential complication. Ducky mentioned it last night. It's rare, and I probably don't have it, but they don't know yet.”

“And if you do?”

She winced. “Then I might end up here for the rest of my pregnancy.”

“Damn,” Tony muttered. “That sucks.”

Bishop nodded. She sighed, going back to combing through Jake's hair. He stirred, his grip tightening on her hand as he lifted his head, frowning at her before looking at the others. He ran a hand over his face, grimacing. “You weren't supposed to wake up.”

“Kind of hard not to with so many people talking, even if they're whispering,” Jake said, stifling a yawn. “And I'm not sure any of you were actually _whispering.”_

“Sorry,” Bishop said, tugging him closer to her, and he kissed her forehead. All of this was too on the nauseatingly cute side for Tony.

“We should get back to our case,” McGee said. “Glad you're okay, Bishop.”

She nodded. “Thank you for coming, McGee. Hopefully, I won't be here tomorrow, but if I am... you don't have to come by. I'll be fine. I've got Jake.”

Tony eyed the husband. “Don't you have to go in to work? They seem to keep you on a pretty tight leash over there. I mean, we didn't meet you until Bishop had been working with us for almost a year, and you had to miss Abby's Halloween party.”

“I called in a family emergency. They weren't thrilled, but they accepted it,” Jake answered. “Even if they hadn't, I'd be here. I couldn't leave Ellie alone like this. There are only two times I can remember being more scared for her.”

“Oh?”

“Parsa,” Bishop answered, and Jake nodded. She grinned. “And our wedding. He was afraid I wouldn't show up.”

Jake looked at her. “I thought we agreed we weren't telling people that anymore.”

“You agreed. I didn't. And I—” Bishop broke off, and Jake reached behind him, grabbing the bed pan just in time.

“That would be our cue to go,” Tony said, pushing McGee toward the door.

“Malloy,” Gibbs said, and Jake looked up from helping Bishop. “Read her in.”

Jake frowned. “You sure? I don't know that—”

“Do it.”

* * *

“There something going on that we should know about, Boss?” DiNozzo asked as they left Bishop's hospital room. Gibbs didn't like not knowing how long he was going to be without his agent, and he didn't like not knowing if this thing with Bishop was serious or not. Shannon had her share of morning sickness, but it had never put her in the hospital. By all accounts, Bishop had only started showing symptoms the day before she wound up there. He didn't like it.

“This about Jake's meeting with Vance?” McGee looked up from his phone. “The one he was supposed to be at when he found out Bishop was pregnant?”

“You got anything on that woman yet?”

McGee winced. “No, not yet. Abby started the search last night, so I would have thought that we'd have a match by now, but still nothing.”

“Strange,” DiNozzo said, frowning. “It's not like she was hiding. I got a good, clear picture. Should have been easy, and how the hell does someone go around DC without being identified?”

“Well, if she was homeless or transient and—”

“She wasn't homeless,” Tony interrupted. “She was wearing a suit. A _nice_ suit. She was kind of a looker, actually.”

McGee looked at him. “Don't you _have_ a girlfriend?”

“I'm not dead,” DiNozzo said, shaking his head. “I can and will notice other women. Don't think you haven't noticed others besides Delilah. I know you have. Sometimes you act like you're still interested in Abby—”

“I am not.”

“—and I'm not stupid enough to say that _I_ forgot Abby was attractive. Because I still know she is,” DiNozzo went on, ignoring McGee. Gibbs gave them each a look, one step from smacking them.

“Find out who that woman was, McGee. I don't want excuses. I want answers.”

“Yes, Boss.”

* * *

“What was that about?” Ellie asked when she finally managed to stop puking. Her side ached, as did her throat, and she wished she was asleep, but that wasn't going to happen. As long as she kept throwing up every half-an-hour or so, she couldn't rest. “Gibbs told you to read me in. To what?”

Jake sighed. “I'm not so sure that's a good idea.”

Ellie grimaced. “We don't know how long I'm going to be stuck here. If Ducky is right about that diagnosis, I could have to do this for the next nine months. I need something to do. A distraction. If I was still with the NSA, I could actually do analysis from this bed. I just... Please, Jake. I'm going crazy lying here with nothing to look forward to except puking.”

“It's not going to help with the puking to be looking at crime scenes or anything else you might have clearance for,” Jake said, wincing. “It can't be a good—”

“It doesn't seem to matter what I do,” Ellie said. “I still puke. So I may as well be distracted enough to have some relief when I'm not.”

“You don't know that it will be like this the entire time. They haven't officially diagnosed you with anything other than pregnancy, which is... I mean, they haven't said you have this rare form of morning sickness. They don't know. They also haven't tried all the possible anti-nausea medications they have. And we don't know that this isn't just your body trying to adjust to the pregnancy. It could be a result of how you eat—”

“Really, Jake?” Ellie demanded, frustrated. “You're going to blame this on the way I eat?”

“Ellie Belly, I love you,” he said, cupping her cheek, “but I am not blind. I know how you eat and what you eat and that very little of it is good for you. You know what the first thing was DiNozzo asked me when he got me alone at the airport? About your metabolism. He wanted to know how you could eat like you do.”

She frowned. “It was? With Tony, I would have expected an embarrassing sex question.”

“Me, too, but it was the metabolism. And the iron stomach which seems to have failed you now,” Jake said. He reached over and took her hand. “It's still possible that this will sort itself out after a bit of time. The IV should help, maybe medication. Though I suppose there is always the—”

“No,” Ellie said, putting a finger to his lips. “I'm not—I'm not giving up that easily, okay? We weren't planning this, but neither of us is against it, and a couple of bad days should not be a life sentence.”

Jake leaned over and kissed her forehead. He brushed back her hair, sighing. “I am still worried. If anything happens to you—”

“It won't.”

“I wish I was sure of that.”

“Worrywart.”

He nodded. “I am, but I don't want to lose you. Not to our problems, our jobs, and not to a complication. I just... we were in a pretty good place before this.”

She shook her head. “We still are. Unless you're all of a sudden going to tell me that you don't want kids and you're leaving me, we're going to stay there. It's not like you left me. Not once. You've stuck by my side even though I have puked on you at least three times. You cleaned me up, fed me, carried me to the car and the doctor... You've been perfect.”

Jake winced. “Not really.”

“Because you were going to go back to work yesterday? If I had been able to, I would have. I don't blame you. At all.”

He let out a breath. “I suppose I should read you in.”

* * *

“Please tell us you've got something for us, Abby,” McGee said as he came into her lab followed by Tony. She could see the desperation, could almost feel it as they crossed her threshold. This was bad. “Gibbs wants the name of the woman Tony spotted last night.”

“And we should have it, but for some reason, we don't,” Abby agreed. She shrugged. “I may not have an id on your mystery woman just yet, but I do have something else you can help me with, Tim.”

“I can?”

She nodded. “In amongst the books you brought in as evidence—which, by the way, why did you feel the need to confiscate every book in our dead marine's apartment?”

McGee gave Tony a look. “For some reason, Tony thought it was necessary to take all of them in case they turned out to be Jake's. Jake already admitted that he loaned the books and that he wasn't interested in getting them back.”

Abby folded her arms over her chest. “And what, you thought he was lying, Tony?”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. Just curious. Thought maybe Bishop might have bought a book or two for her hubby and we'd find some juicy inscriptions. Were there any? Because I had a bet with McNovelist that there were, which he has conveniently forgotten.”

“I thought you were kidding.”

“About a look into the personal lives of the parents-to-be? Never,” Tony said with a grin. “Come on, McGee. You don't think it's a little weird that Bishop kept her husband from us for over a year? Sure, we've all met him now, and he seems like a great guy, but where was he when all of that other stuff was going down? What about Parsa? Or when she got shot? Sure, it hit her vest, but yet he never showed.”

“She might not have told him. I think my money would be on that,” McGee said. “Besides, he's not going to loan a book with a racy inscription to a neighbor he barely knew.”

“Actually,” Abby said, going over to pick up a copy of _A Time to Kill._ “This one's pretty good. She says that Jake looks better than Matthew McConaughey—”

“No way,” Tony said, going over to snatch it from her hand. She laughed. Tony opened it up and frowned. “Were you yanking my chain, Abs?”

Abby just grinned. She shouldn't add fuel to that fire, but if Tony found the book's dedication page, he'd find plenty, something she doubted Jake even remembered was there, or McGee was right and he wouldn't have loaned it to anyone.

“You said you had something for me?” McGee pressed, shaking his head at Tony.

“I do,” Abby said, going over to different evidence bag and pulling out what looked like a hardcover classic. She opened it up for their benefit, showing it off. “This is what I found.”

“A tablet stashed inside a hollowed out book. Nice going, Abs.”

She rolled her eyes. “You do know that you should have been finding this stuff, not bringing a bunch of books back to me for me to search.”

“Jake's books have to go back to him sometime,” Tony said. “Admit it, Abby—you want to find more books with little messages, don't you?”

“No.”

“Come on,” Tony said. “You think they're adorable. And they're about to become parents. Like you're not at all curious.”

She shrugged. “I see plenty of Bishop and Jake outside of work. Though... that line about the suit... That was good.”

“What line? What suit?” McGee asked, frowning. “I thought you were kidding. There's not really a message in there from Bishop to Jake, is there?”

“Oh, there is,” Tony said. “And it is rather risque, actually. I didn't realize Bishop was that kinky.”

McGee groaned. “Now I know you're messing with me. Just give me that tablet.”

* * *

Jake caught himself as he almost fell forward out of his chair. He grimaced, looking over at Ellie. At least his nap hadn't pulled her out of hers. She had finally fallen asleep, and he hoped she was able to stay there this time. She was so tired, and he couldn't stop worrying about how sick she was. He had always thought the threat would come from outside, from their work and how dangerous it was, hers so much more than his, but now it almost seemed like it was him.

Well, his child.

He ran his hand over his face. Another minute of thinking like that, and he would be sick. He couldn't let himself dwell on it. Ducky had said the complication she might have was rare but also wasn't fatal. Ellie should be fine. The baby would be fine.

He was still having trouble believing that, but even if Ellie's pregnancy had been perfectly normal, he doubted he'd have worried any less. The next nine months would be hell. He wasn't going to kid himself.

He flinched at the pun, lowering his head into his hands. He'd be better if he'd gotten any sleep, but aside from the nap that her team had interrupted, he hadn't gotten any more than she had.

“Malloy.”

He jerked, again almost falling out of his chair. He rose, looking back at the door with a frown. “What are you doing here, Matthews?”

She gave him a smile he didn't believe for a second. “What, I can't check up on a friend?”

“Whatever friendship we had seems to have died, or you wouldn't be doing this,” Jake countered, crossing the room toward her. “You need to leave, now.”

“You want to tell me why you went to see Director Vance yesterday?”

Damn, that felt like days ago. Jake couldn't believe that was yesterday morning. He should have, but everything was different since he went into NCIS that morning. “I was told to brief Vance on a new threat. Ask our director if you don't believe me. And go. I'm not answering any more of your questions. It's insulting that you think I lied about having an emergency.”

“Why shouldn't I? You lie about a lot, don't you, Jake?”

He frowned, not sure what she was talking about, but she smirked and left the room. He turned away, trying to figure out what she thought she had on him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He had bent a couple rules, but he hadn't actually broken them, even if his aid to Gibbs seemed like it was a definitely crossing of a line.

“Was that Matthews?”

Jake winced. “Go back to sleep, Ellie.”

“What was she doing here?”

“Don't worry about it,” he told her, knowing he'd have to come clean about the supposed investigation more like harassment that Matthews was doing, but he didn't want to do it if Ellie could get back to sleep now. She needed rest. The whole truth could wait, especially since he didn't even know what it all was. “Just rest.”

“Wish I had my own bed.”

“I'd climb up there and hold you, but that bed is very small.”

“We've fit in tighter spaces before.”

“Not when you were this sick.”

“I've already puked on you,” she reminded him. “I can't do any worse.”

* * *

Tony turned pages in another book, bored. He hated waiting, but they still had nothing, and judging from McGee's griping over the tablet, it would be hours before they got something. This case was frustrating. How did a marine reservist manage to not know anyone? That just wasn't possible.

He checked his phone again. No calls back from anyone he'd left messages with, and while Gibbs might be getting to the point where he'd put one of them on a plane to track down former commanding officers, Tony knew they weren't at that point yet.

Something beeped, and he looked over at the others. “What was that?”

“We got a hit,” Abby said, and Tony waited for McGee's explanation, but she moved away from him and the tablet, going over to her computer. “Okay, that was not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, putting down the book and joining her at the computer. “Wait. That makes no sense. Our mystery woman is NSA?”

“Yup.”

“Then why couldn't we find her before?” McGee asked. “She had to have been part of the database. She should have been identified hours ago.”

“Good question.”


	7. Stubborn Choices and Strange Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie's symptoms persist. Gibbs looks into one angle on the murder while the rest of the team is surprised by another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to remember to plot better, because I was stuck for a bit without one as well as coming up against a wall in an issue I swore I was never going near again. I think I managed to sidestep it and its controversy, I hope. I decided to use part of the backstory for Jake I created doing Oceans Apart.
> 
> I really should have separated the two plots (baby versus internal affairs) but I prefer baby fic with more substance than fluff, and I tried to give it a plot instead, silly me.
> 
> Still, I like the case angle, mostly.

* * *

“I want to go home.”

“You haven't stopped puking,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice gentle. He knew it wasn't what Ellie wanted to hear, and it wasn't what he wanted to say, either. He had hoped this would all be over by this morning. “I don't think that you can go, not yet.”

She sighed, taking her hand and wrapping her fingers through his, pulling his hand up around her and over her stomach. “You know that means that you're not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I think your doctors and nurses will have something to say about that,” Jake said, making her laugh in his arms. He smiled, though he knew he wasn't wrong. He'd had enough experience with hospitals to know that sharing beds was frowned upon, and he was surprised that he hadn't been forced out already.

“If they don't like it, they can send me home,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I'd rather be comfortable—or as comfortable as I can be—if I'm going to be miserable. I want to go home.”

“If you need the IV, you can't be at home,” Jake reminded her. “And since you can't keep anything down, that's how you're getting the anti-nausea medication. If you can't get that, then you're going to keep throwing up.”

“It's not helping now,” Ellie muttered. “I just want this to stop.”

Jake grimaced. “I suppose there is something we haven't—”

“Don't,” she said, shifting around to face him. “If your mother hadn't made the choice she did, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I already know how you feel about this.”

“That doesn't mean—”

“Jake, I love you,” she said, touching his face. “And as unexpected as this was, and as unpleasant as it is right now, I actually think I want to do this. Both of us do, or we would have made sure we couldn't a long time ago. One or both of us would have had surgery by now. We're only three days into being parents. We're not giving up already, are we?”

“No.”

She smiled. “I didn't think so. Neither of us has ever really been the quitting type. Too stubborn for that.”

“You are,” he said, combing through her hair. “Some people would even call you obsessed.”

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “Not this time.”

He nodded. “We'd already have a dozen if you were.”

“Twelve?” Ellie laughed, leaning her head into his chest. “We're both worried about surviving one, and you think I'd go for twelve?”

“If you were obsessed,” Jake said, shaking his head at her. He wasn't actually suggesting that they try for that number. They hadn't ever discussed a specific amount of kids. They'd usually shelved the topic of kids, period, as something for a later time. They were both open to the idea but in no hurry, so it never seemed important to push the issue. They still hadn't found a house, and they probably wouldn't have given children much thought until then. “Two might be nice, assuming the morning sickness gets better for you. I wouldn't want you to have to do this again.”

“Two could be good,” she said, sounding a bit sleepy. “I think we could manage two.”

He started to smile at that, but then she pushed away from him, throwing up into the bed pan. He sat up, rubbing her back as she groaned. “If you can stop puking.”

“Yeah,” she muttered as she laid back down, “if I can stop puking.”

* * *

“Need to talk to you, Malloy.”

“Are you kidding, Gibbs?” Malloy asked, barely awake despite the hour. “Can't it wait? Ellie was almost asleep.”

Bishop groaned, rolling over in the bed and losing her stomach. Malloy sat up with her, talking in her ear until she was done, helping her back down when she was finished. He took a towel from the tray next to them and wiped off her face. She closed her eyes, putting a hand over her stomach.

“Just try and rest again,” Malloy told her, putting a hand on her forehead. “I think if you could just get some sleep, you'd feel a lot better. I know I'm not your doctor—”

“I want to agree with you,” she said. “If only because that way I can go home.”

He gave her a tired smile before kissing her forehead and easing himself out of the bed. Gibbs waited for him to come to the door.

“Surprised they let you do that.”

“Me, too, but she did seem to have longer between bouts of puking when I was with her, so I think they forgave the breach of protocol. That, and her nurse thinks we're adorable. She... sounded a lot like Abby when she said it, actually.”

Gibbs grunted. It was obvious neither of them had gotten much sleep. “Any change?”

“If she doesn't stop puking soon, they're going to want another day. I was going to call Ellie's mom and see if she knew about any allergies to medication or anything,” Malloy said, running his fingers through his hair. “Fell asleep waiting for it to be time to call. Woke up to Ellie puking again.”

Gibbs looked over at the bed. Bishop's eyes were still closed, but he didn't believe she was asleep. “You're running out of time.”

Malloy leaned against the door frame. “Exactly what are you saying? You expect me to somehow make Ellie better? Because if you're suggesting—”

“I'm suggesting that they're not going to accept emergency leave for much longer.”

Malloy frowned. “Ellie is still sick. Why would they—”

“You recognize this woman?” Gibbs asked, showing him the picture his team had given him. Malloy looked at the screen, swallowing.

“Yes. Why?”

“She is NSA.”

“Why are you asking me things you already know?” Malloy said, rubbing at his head. “Gibbs, I have not had enough sleep for this. What is it you really want?”

Gibbs barred him from returning to his wife. “Answers. Do you know if she has any connection to Mark Judge?”

“Our neighbor? No,” Malloy shook his head. “The only thing I can think of is the possibility that she knew about the briefing I gave Vance, but she certainly acted like she didn't know anything about it when she came here last night.”

“She was here?”

“I just said that. I think,” Malloy said, grimacing. “I don't understand. Why do you think Matthews had anything to do with Judge's death? She's a respected, if hated, agent with the NSA.”

“I don't think she had anything to do with Judge's death,” Gibbs said, giving Malloy a pointed look. What he'd said about Matthews made it clear to him just what that woman did for the NSA and why she'd been seen at NCIS and later Malloy's apartment building—and this hospital.

Malloy nodded. “It probably is exactly what you think it is. Though at this point... unofficial. Borderline harassment, but nothing I could build a case against yet. If you don't need anything else from me, please go. I think Ellie's asleep, and I'd like her to stay that way for a change. Maybe this time she can get enough rest. Then we'll both be able to go home.”

Gibbs glanced toward the bed. Malloy was on thin ice, and as he'd already said, running out of time. Bishop would find out about Matthews' investigation if she didn't already know. “This is only the beginning.”

“I know.”

* * *

“I am afraid that I can add nothing to what I have already told you,” Ducky said, and Tony wanted to smack his head into something hard, put himself out of his misery. He hated when they had nothing to go on, and right now, they had a big fat nothing.

“Come on, Ducky. There's got to be something. We've got nothing on his job, his family, his time in the service—it's like he doesn't exist, only we all know he does,” Tony insisted, pointing to the body. “He's right there.”

“Indeed he is, but I am afraid I cannot give you more than his physical attributes and his cause of death. Abigail may be able to give you more with ballistics, but I could not begin to compile a psychological profile. There is simply not enough data.”

Tony nodded. That figured. That was the way this damned case went, apparently. Everything was a dead end or not enough information.

“I did hear a vague rumor that there was a woman involved,” Ducky said, giving him a pointed look. Tony wasn't sure who told him—Palmer, maybe, but how Palmer knew, Tony couldn't say. They hadn't even asked Ducky if a woman could have done it. They didn't have to—Judge had been shot, and Abby was still working on the bullets and the trajectory, which would tell them how tall Judge's killer had been, but none of that mattered.

“She's NSA,” Tony said. “And Gibbs said he'd handle that.”

Ducky frowned. “Without any of you?”

Tony shrugged. She was seen outside NCIS and Bishop's apartment building. She was NSA. It wasn't hard to find the common denominator there, and even easier to see why Gibbs would intervene. That was his BFF, right?

“I was just hoping you had something for me,” Tony told the medical examiner. “Abby's got some forensics, McGee's got a tablet, Gibbs has our NSA agent, and I've got a big fat lot of nothing.”

“It's early days yet, Anthony. The answers will come soon enough,” Ducky assured him. “In fact, it may be worth a return visit to Abigail's lab.”

* * *

“You Matthews?”

She leaned back in her chair. “I might be. What's it to you?”

Gibbs snorted, not bothering to walk into her office. He folded his arms over his chest, staring her down. She met his gaze for a while, held it, but like everyone, she broke away, her eyes darting down to her desk.

“Cut the crap,” he said. “You know who I am. I want to know what the hell you think you're doing.”

“Why would I know who you are? And I am under no obligation to explain anything to you about what I may or may not be doing.”

“Bull,” Gibbs said, crossing the room and going to her desk, getting in her face. “You're internal affairs. You're watching Malloy. His wife is a member of my team. He and I play racquetball together—or we did before I got shot. You know who I am. Don't bother lying to me. You waste my time, you piss me off. And you do not want me pissed off.”

“Very well, Agent Gibbs. I am aware of who you are,” Matthews relented. She made a show of reorganizing her files, pretending she was not bothered by his visit. “Senior Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Head of the major crimes task force at NCIS. Most people consider you Director Vance's second-in-command even if you do not officially have that position.”

“Why were you at my crime scene?”

“I wasn't.”

Gibbs put a hand on her file, preventing her from moving it again. “My agents saw you there. I told you not to lie to me. Now talk.”

“Gibbs, you do not want me to—”

“I'm looking into the murder of a marine reservist,” Gibb said. “I want to know why you were there. You can either tell me, or you can start looking for a lawyer.”

“Why would I need one of those? I didn't kill anyone. Not your reservist. I don't even know his name. Now if you don't mind, please leave my office.”

“I mind,” Gibbs said. “You're after Malloy, aren't you?”

“Excuse me?”

Gibbs shook his head. How the hell did anyone stand this woman? She was pushing him well past where he wanted to be. “I told you to cut the crap. To stop lying. You're bad at it for IA. And the NSA. You might want to reconsider your job choices. Now tell me why you're after Malloy.”

“You already know. He breached national security with you. And your team. And his wife.”

Gibbs frowned, picking up on something at the end of her speech. “You jealous, Matthews?”

She went red, standing in rage. “I have proof that Malloy compromised the interests of this agency. I also know that he has aided your agency multiple times when he should not have done so and when doing so was a betrayal of his own agency.”

“Like hell he did,” Gibbs snapped, knowing none of that was true. “You're on a witch hunt, and you've got nothing because there's nothing to get.”

“Korkmaz. Sergei Michnev. Do I need to go on?” Matthews shook her head. “Get out.”

“We're not done,” Gibbs warned her as he left.

* * *

“Oh, this is bad. This is very bad.”

Abby frowned, looking away from the three-dimensional model she was building. She had it all just about ready to show to Gibbs, though she'd probably put a few finishing touches on it since it was about all she had. “McGee?”

He winced, looking up from the tablet. “We have a big problem, Abby.”

“What's got your panties in a twist, McPanic?” Tony asked as he came into the lab. “Did you find something twisted and kinky in our reservist's tablet? Let me have it. I want to see.”

“Tony,” Abby said, shaking her head. McGee grimaced, holding the tablet away from Tony. She rolled her eyes at both of them, taking it and popping out the SD card, carrying it over to her own computer. She pushed it in and opened the folder. “You're right. This is bad.”

“Wait a minute—that's Bishop. I mean, it's hard to tell from the distance and it's blurry, but that's her. And so is that and that and—those are _definitely_ Jake. The tailored suit. The glasses. The tie. The whole picture. Man looks like a lawyer. Except—not there. That is a very interesting fashion choice,” Tony said, peering at the pictures. “Are all of the files in this folder pictures of Jake and Bishop?”

“Yes,” McGee answered. “They go back months, starting with when Bishop and Jake moved into that apartment building.”

“Damn,” Tony muttered. “That's creepy. You're sure? Months worth of photos?”

“Not just photos,” Abby said, scrolling down and clicking on an audio file.

_“Jake, I'm fine. That fruit basket was just bad. That's all. It turned my stomach.”_

_“You threw up in the sink. I don't know, Ellie. Maybe you should stay home today,”_ Jake said, and Abby thought she heard the sound of a door closing. _“I know you're short-handed, but you're never sick, and you were dragging your feet so much this morning—”_

 _“I'm fine,”_ Ellie insisted, her voice getting further away as she went on. _“You worry too much.”_

The recording ended, and Abby turned back to the others. “That was the other morning. The morning Gibbs came back.”

“The morning of the day Mark Judge died,” Tony said, frowning. “What was he doing, stalking them? Was he after Bishop or Jake? Both? Why both?”

“There's something else,” McGee said, moving over to Abby's computer. She moved out of the way, letting him work. “These are the pictures from that morning.”

Tony shrugged. “So? There are lots of pictures of Jake and Bishop on that disc.”

“The tie,” McGee said, sounding almost guilty. “The one Jake's wearing in the picture—he was wearing it when he came by around lunch to check on Bishop.”

“Again, so?”

Abby shook her head. “No, McGee. You're wrong. I know where you're going with this, but you have to be wrong. We're talking about Jake. Sweet, adorable Jake who is about to have a baby.”

Tony rubbed his head. “What am I missing, McTraitor?”

McGee glared at him before pulling up the crime scene photo, enlarging a part of the rug next to Judge's body. “That look familiar to you?”


	8. Things Lost in Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie leaves the hospital only to have to deal with her team's suspicions about her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was interesting because it started off light and fun, and it did not stay that way. I kind of think it works well that it didn't, and I did manage to work in a bit of back story (minor detail) and explain things a bit more, though the case hasn't gotten very far yet.

* * *

“This feels good,” Ellie said, pulling her shirt over her head with a smile. She stretched her arms out, enjoying the comfort of one of her favorites, this one with long sleeves and soft cotton, even hugging herself in it. She was glad not to be curled up in a ball, waiting to puke. Everything was a relief, honestly. Being out of bed, on her feet, dressed—she felt human again for the first time in days.

She looked over at Jake. He'd gone home and gotten her the change of clothes, but he looked like a bit of a mess himself. She thought he'd changed his shirt, at least, but he could use a shave and his glasses had gotten misplaced again. She smiled when she caught him looking at her. “What?”

He shrugged, looking adorable with his messy hair and slight smile. “Just never thought you'd be that happy to be wearing a bra again.”

She frowned, not sure where that had come from. “What makes you say that?”

“You tend to go without one whenever you can at home,” Jake said, surprising her. She just stood there, not sure what to say to that. She knew things were different now, but were they actually having this conversation? “What? I'm your husband. I notice these things.”

She smiled, tempted to laugh as she crossed over to him. She couldn't resist teasing him. “You notice these things?”

“Yes,” he answered, frowning. “Why would you think I wouldn't?”

“I didn't think you wouldn't,” she said, stopping when she reached him and wrapping her arms around him. “I just always thought you were too much of a gentleman to say anything about it.”

He laughed, holding her close. “You know that's not true.”

“Just like you know that I am just glad to be out of bed and not feeling like I am going to erupt like a volcano of endless vomit again,” she said. “It is so nice to be on my feet and feeling alive instead of miserable and half-dead.”

“That is a very colorful description.”

She nodded, trying to convince herself to move. “As nice as this feels, they are letting me go home, and I would much rather be there than here.”

He snorted. “Don't you mean you'd rather be at NCIS?”

“Jake—”

“I know you better than that,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped away from her. “You're never one to quit or back down. You pursue and obsess. You haven't been able to work in days, and not by choice. You even find it difficult to let that go when you are away from work by choice. And don't say you're not. I can cite examples from every trip we've ever taken together.”

She wanted to deny it, but she knew that she couldn't. He was right about having examples from the trips. She'd managed to drag work along with them on just about every trip. She wasn't even sure she could say that their honeymoon had been free of it. She just knew that their newlywed phase had managed to push work far from her mind.

She was still weak to that kind of distraction, though the tactic got used less and less, probably when they started being unable to talk and losing intimacy along with communication. Sometimes being away rekindled things. Other times, it made everything worse.

She grimaced, pushing some unpleasant memories out of her mind. They weren't worth dwelling on. “I'm sorry.”

He forced a smile, but she didn't think he believed her. “How long has it been since the nurse said she was going for your discharge papers?”

“Too long,” Ellie said, though she'd needed the time to change. She had been slow about getting out of the bed, afraid that doing so would make the misery of the last two days start over again. 

“We could go check at the desk.”

“And maybe after that—”

“To the pharmacy to get your prescriptions,” Jake finished for her, picking up the plastic bag with her belongings. “Have you seen my glasses? I don't even remember taking them off, but I must have left them in here because I couldn't have driven over without them, so...”

Ellie frowned. “I know you've been worried about me, but this isn't like you. Since when do you misplace your glasses? You don't even take them off most of the time, and then when you do, you always put them on the same bed stand.”

He put the bag down and ran his hand through his hair. “I haven't slept much, and the past few days have been stressful.”

“Try weeks. You have been on edge for weeks.”

“Are we really going to fight right now?” Jake asked, rummaging around her bed and then kneeling down under it. “I just want to find my glasses and go.”

“And if I find them, we stop at NCIS before going home.”

Jake rose, folding his arms over his chest. “Did you have them the entire time?”

“You know I didn't,” Ellie said, hurt. “What is going on with you, Jake?”

“Maybe I should ask you that,” he countered. “Or did you really think I'd have to be coerced into going by NCIS with you?”

* * *

Abby paced next to McGee's desk, not sure why Gibbs hadn't already shown himself. He should have. He always showed up when she had evidence, so he should be here. He had to be. He'd show himself any minute. She knew it.

So did Tony, or he would have gone off to question Jake already. They were all waiting. Even McGee, who had found the evidence, wasn't in any hurry to go off and confront anyone. They were waiting for Gibbs, and she hadn't felt like this since she was asked to look into a certain drug dealer's murder. Or maybe it was more like when she'd had evidence building against Tony. The thing was, she'd feared the forensics were true in Gibbs' case. She'd never believed they were in Tony's, and she didn't believe this tie meant Jake had anything to do with Mark Judge's murder.

Not Jake.

Not when Bishop was going to have a baby.

She looked up when the elevator dinged, but Gibbs was not the one to come out of it. She didn't know if this was good or bad, not when McGee had found what he did. Still, she knew what she had to do—for now. She ran over to Ellie, wrapping her arms around her.

“Oh, I'm so glad you're here. You look so much better—does this mean that everything's okay? You don't have any other complications? Just a normal, healthy baby?”

Bishop grimaced. “They say it's too soon to be sure that I don't have the complication Ducky was worried about, because the way it distinguishes itself from normal morning sickness is by staying longer and being worse, so if I keep having bouts where I get dehydrated because I can't keep anything down or if it last past when morning sickness normally ends. Then they'll know for sure. In the meantime, they've given me something for the nausea, a bunch of preventative suggestions, and I've got an appointment tomorrow.”

“Somehow, I thought you'd be more relieved by that, Jake,” Tony said, rising from his desk. “Or is that grim expression because reality has come creeping in and you're starting to fear being a dad?”

“Tony,” Abby said, though she was glad he hadn't gone straight for accusing Jake of murder.

“It's nothing,” Bishop said. “Jake lost his glasses and we ended up having a stupid fight.”

“And is that all you've lost lately?” Tony asked, making Bishop and Jake both frown. “Nothing else gone astray?”

Jake put a hand to his head. “Tony, I'm not in the mood for any of your jokes. I'm tired, and I would just like to go home.”

“After three days in the hospital, we're both tired and cranky,” Bishop said, reaching out to touch Jake's arm. He looked at her but didn't smile. Abby almost winced. “I just wanted to grab a few things before we went home.”

“Of course,” Abby said. “I was going to bring something by the hospital later, but I can give it to you now. I'll just go down to my lab and—”

“Actually,” McGee picked up the bag off his desk and carried it around to Jake. “I think I have it right here.”

Jake frowned, looking at the evidence bag. “That looks a lot like the tie I lost yesterday—no, it was two—three days ago—why do you have it?”

“This was found in Mark Judge's apartment.”

Jake put a hand to his head, rubbing at his temple. “I don't understand. I don't even remember where I lost the tie. I just know when I went to meet Vance, it was gone. I was at meetings at the NSA all night before that. I didn't go home. It—Wait. You don't actually suspect me, do you?”

“It's not just the tie, Jake,” McGee said. “There is something else. We found photographs and recordings that Judge had compiled. Of you and of Bishop.”

“What?” Bishop asked. “No, you're wrong. You have to be. Why would our neighbor be spying on us? That makes no sense.”

“I don't know,” Tony said, eying Jake with suspicion. “You have any theories about that?”

Bishop turned to her husband, hand on her stomach. “No. Tony's wrong. Neither of us knew anything about this. We didn't.”

“Not so sure about that,” Gibbs said, coming up behind Abby, setting a coffee on his desk as he faced them. “This about Matthews?”

* * *

Calling off the NSA's guard dog wasn't going to be easy. Gibbs didn't have any proof of Malloy's innocence to counter the allegations—Matthews was twisting things Malloy had, in fact, done—and he wouldn't get it. His record outside of the incidents she'd mentioned didn't matter, not on the kind of witch hunt she was on. She didn't care whether Malloy was guilty or not, didn't care about any extenuating circumstances. She wasn't doing a job—she was seeking some kind of revenge. Gibbs had her pegged as the jealous type, and either she resented Bishop or she wanted Malloy for herself.

Woman was an idiot. Malloy would never fall for her after this, even if he wasn't loyal to his wife and about to have a baby.

Gibbs shook his head. Official channels weren't going to work. He needed something else, and while he'd love to make a case of her presence at his crime scene, it wasn't enough. He'd need a hell of a lot more.

He intended to confront Malloy about the whole thing as soon as he got an update from Abby and the others, and that was made easier when he came close to his desk to see everyone but Ducky and Palmer already gathered.

“After three days in the hospital, we're both tired and cranky,” Bishop said. She touched her husband's arm, but he didn't relax with her words, almost seeming angry. Gibbs watched with a frown. “I just wanted to grab a few things before we went home.”

“Of course,” Abby said, smiling even though she was aware of the tension. “I was going to bring something by the hospital later, but I can give it to you now. I'll just go down to my lab and—”

McGee grabbed something off his desk and took it over to Malloy. “Actually, I think I have it right here.”

“That looks a lot like the tie I lost yesterday—no, it was two—three days ago,” Malloy said, frowning, “why do you have it?”

“This was found in Mark Judge's apartment.”

“I don't understand. I don't even remember where I lost the tie. I just know when I went to meet Vance, it was gone. I was at meetings at the NSA all night before that. I didn't go home. It—Wait,” Malloy stopped, looking between McGee, Tony, and Abby. “You don't actually _suspect_ me, do you?”

“It's not just the tie, Jake,” McGee told him, and Gibbs figured there damn well better be more. Either Gibbs was slipping, or Malloy was one hell of a con, fooling even his gut. “There is something else. We found photographs and recordings that Judge had compiled. Of you and of Bishop.”

“What?” Bishop shook her head. “No, you're wrong. You have to be. Why would our neighbor be spying on us? That makes no sense.”

DiNozzo looked at Malloy with suspicion. “I don't know. You have any theories about that?”

Bishop put her hand on her stomach, and Gibbs would smack someone if the puking started again. “No. Tony's wrong. Neither of us knew anything about this. We didn't.”

“Not so sure about that,” Gibbs interrupted, deciding to get this conversation back on track and keep Bishop from thinking the worst of her husband—the father of her kid. He set down his coffee and faced Malloy. “This about Matthews?”

“What does Matthews have to do with this? I mean, she's NSA, but you kind of made it seem like she wasn't a suspect,” DiNozzo said, looking at Gibbs.

“I almost wish she was,” Bishop muttered, moving her hand in a circle as she spoke. “Taylor Matthews is IA. She's... annoying. I can't see her killing anyone, but she's so irritating. It seemed like I'd go up against her almost every time I had a theory, at least in the beginning.”

Gibbs looked at Malloy, wondering when he'd taken the role as go-between for the women, and just how much that had cost him. “Is she behind this?”

Malloy stared at him. “Behind a murder? I know she's on a witch hunt, but murder is too far even for her. I guess it could—wait. You think Taylor hired one of our neighbors to spy on us? I realize she's got no real case, and she has been pushing the limits—she's so close to harassment that I was actually going to put in—”

“Jake, you didn't tell me Matthews was investigating you,” Bishop said, hurt in her voice. “You... kept that from me?”

“Yes,” Malloy admitted, shaking his head as he did. “She didn't have a case, and I was going to put in notice as soon as the Calling and Daniel Budd were no longer a threat. Which they're not, but I found about it the same day you ended up in the hospital so I never got around to—”

“Back up,” Bishop said “What case? And—you're leaving the NSA?”

“Ellie, we agreed we needed to work on our communication. I can't actually say that I've done that if I continue to work in a job that prevents me from telling you what I do with most of my time,” Malloy said. “I've had a few offers from a few local law firms, nothing I liked, but I figured we'd discuss any of them that seemed a real option. I just can't go from helping save the world through bureaucracy to being an ambulance chaser.”

She laughed, going to him and putting her hands on his face. “You really are adorable.”

“Um... okay.”

“What, no kiss?” Abby asked, folding her arms over her chest in a pout. “I mean, yeah, he was kind of lying by omission, and McGee still suspects him a little—”

“Hey,” McGee began, but DiNozzo just shook his head at him.

“—but it's totally sweet that he's giving up his job for you and that he's in trouble because of us,” Abby finished, and Bishop looked over at her with a frown before facing her husband again.

“This is because of Korkmaz' drive?”

“In part, yes,” Malloy answered, taking her hands in his. “Matthews has it in her head that I'm somehow biased and passing classified intel I shouldn't be to this agency—to you—but she's wrong. I haven't done anything wrong. Bent a couple rules, but I didn't break any. Anything I did or information I shared was within the bounds of my position. I didn't do anything illegal.”

McGee frowned. “Then why is she targeting you?”

“It's personal,” Gibbs said. He turned to Bishop first. “You said you didn't like her.”

“I don't. She did try and get me more than a reprimand for the thing with Parsa, but I thought she let it go. She did let it go, right, Jake?”

“Other than a few snide remarks, yes,” Malloy said, letting go of his wife's hands to run a hand over his face. “She wasn't happy about it. I know that, but even as angry as she was with the disciplinary committee's decision, I can't see that as a reason to be doing this now. Ellie left the NSA, so she's no longer Matthews' problem. I would have thought she'd be relieved.”

“Excuse me?” Bishop asked, and Malloy shrugged.

“She's never liked you, just like you never liked her. I used to think I had a decent working relationship with her—”

“But not a personal one, right? You were never friends?”

Malloy gave McGee a dark look. “I get the sense you're not actually asking about me being friends with her but something _more_ than friends.”

“McGee—”

“I didn't say you did anything you shouldn't have,” McGee protested. “It's just that sometimes people get the wrong idea about friendships between men and women and if she got the wrong idea about yours, it could give her motive.”

“I think I'm going to puke again,” Bishop said, and Malloy turned to her, guiding her toward her desk chair as he rubbed her back, muttering into her ear something that had her smiling despite the nausea. “You don't really think that's why she's doing this, do you?”

“She's never come on to me, if that's what you really want to know,” Malloy said, helping her sit. “Just try not to think about it. I know I am.”

Bishop nodded, leaning back in the chair. “Are you sure? Because I think she has—”

“Ellie,” Malloy said, grimacing. “I don't think so. I hope not. I wouldn't—I don't know. I am kind of bad with... people. Still, I wouldn't have thought that she... Now you've got me second guessing everything I've ever said to her. Could I actually have encouraged her? I didn't—”

“Malloy,” Gibbs interrupted, forcing them all to focus again. “If she didn't pay Judge to surveille you, who did?”

“No idea.”

“And you don't know anyone who'd want us to believe you killed your neighbor,” DiNozzo said, getting a nod from Malloy.

“I told you—I barely knew him. I don't see why he would have been watching us, unless Gibbs is right about Matthews. As far as I know, there's nothing I'm privy to that could be a threat, and certainly not to both of us. Though I suppose it's possible it has to do with the terrorist group targeting anyone who's former military—”

“What terrorist group?” DiNozzo asked. “Why don't we know about this?”

Malloy glared at Gibbs. “Really? You only had Ellie read into this? What is wrong with you? A case with a dead reservist, and the only one you tell is my wife when she's in the hospital?”

“Technically, you told her,” Gibbs said, and Malloy rolled his eyes. Another man might have given Gibbs the finger for that. “Didn't want it influencing the investigation. That was the point of bringing the intel to us, wasn't it?”

“I hate you,” Malloy muttered, putting a hand to his head. “There is a group targeting former military. They've taken responsibility for the deaths of two Korean war vets and three reservists, all from different branches. Right now, the NSA has very little on them, they're not sure if it's a credible threat, but I was told to pass it along to Vance and my personal suggestion was that you were better equipped to determine if the threat was real.”

“Why, Jake,” Tony said, grinning at him. “Such faith. I like it. Too bad McGee didn't share it. At all. McMustard Seed.”

Malloy sighed. “I didn't get the feeling you were all that convinced of my innocence, Tony.”

“Exactly,” McGee said. He grimaced. “I am sorry, Jake. The strange photos, the recordings, and then your tie—it wasn't looking good.”

“I was in meetings all night,” Malloy repeated. “I had two with local agencies, one video conference overseas, and then I got called in by my superior who suggested I brief Vance. I don't know where I lost the tie, but I would have sworn it was in my office. I'll give you a list of names of the people I met with who can confirm everything.”

Gibbs looked over at Malloy. “Matthews aware of your schedule?”

“I don't give her my itinerary, if that's what you're asking. I don't know if she knew or not.”

“You have a point, Boss,” McGee said. “It's pretty stupid of them to frame Jake when he's got a good alibi. Bishop's would have been less solid if she'd been feeling well—”

“She was with me. All night,” Abby said. “I know because she puked more than once.”

“Thanks, Abby,” Bishop muttered, shaking her head.

“But she has a gun, which means that Jake would have had access—”

“Oh, no,” Malloy said. “I do not do guns. At all. Don't look at me like that. It is a valid life choice. I'm not a fan of guns.”

“He hates them,” Bishop confirmed. “And not entirely without reason.”

“You ever fire one?” DiNozzo asked. “Because as a spy—”

“I'm a lawyer,” Malloy corrected. “Not a spy. Though... yes, I have actually fired a gun. It is not an experience I would ever repeat.”

“Okay, you have to explain that. You just made us all curious,” Abby told him, and Malloy groaned.

Bishop winced. “Do we have to share that? Because it... it was not a very good time.”

“You're making it worse,” Malloy told her. He sighed and faced DiNozzo. “Ellie's brothers took me hunting once. Though I was assured I was shown the correct way to hold and fire the rifle, the recoil broke my shoulder and I almost killed her oldest brother. It's not something I'll ever do again.”

“Handguns are different,” McGee said, and Gibbs gave him a look. “I'm just saying—”

“I know what you're saying,” Gibbs said. “You got anything besides the tie and the photos? Any actual leads?”

“Not right now. Jake was... our best lead. Again,” DiNozzo said with a frown. “First the BFF, then the murderer.”

“I didn't kill anyone.”

“They know that,” Bishop said, pushing herself up out of her chair. “Come on. We should go home before my medication wears off and I start puking all over everything again.”

“Wait,” McGee said, and they both glared at him. He held up his hands in defense. “I was just going to ask if that happened on that Thanksgiving trip you took the first year you worked at NCIS. You said you were going home, and if that was when Jake broke his shoulder—it would explain part of why we didn't see him for almost a year after you started working here.”

She nodded, grimacing again as she took something out of her desk drawer. “Yes. It is also the reason we went to Turks and Caicos with Jake's family last time.”

“You're still mad at my mother, aren't you?”

“Jake—”

“No, we won't do that here. You're right. I'm sorry.” Malloy put an arm around her, and she leaned against him as they walked toward the elevator.

Gibbs looked at his team. “Well? What else have we got?”


	9. When Suspicion Fails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie and Jake deal with the accusations made by team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I developed a lovely migraine mid-writing this chapter, and it fought me all the way, making me question whether or not I should take the story down and redo it all (along with a couple other pieces) and I'm glad to say that I've finally finished it. I went with a cliffhanger of sorts, which I will address soon.

* * *

“You okay?” Ellie asked, sitting down on couch and pulling her legs up onto the seat next to her. They'd settled on a compromise—here, not the bed—without words, and she was glad, because she didn't want to spend another day in bed, even if she wasn't up to doing much else despite feeling lot better than she did yesterday. She reached over and grabbed the blanket, spreading it over her legs.

Jake frowned. “Shouldn't I be asking you that? You are the one that was in the hospital for the last three days, and you may end up there again. Actually, there's no avoiding it assuming the baby goes to term—”

“There are alternatives,” she said, though she didn't want to think about labor and delivery just now. She had time for that, and she would wait until later to make any decisions in that regard. “And I'm not the one who was accused of murder—by my team, even.”

Jake groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “I don't even know how I managed to make this mess for myself. It's like a nightmare, one of those ones you think you can wake up from if you could just figure out why but you have no answers.”

“It sounds to me like Taylor made most of the mess.”

“Yes, but is that my fault?” Jake asked, looking over at her. “Did I do something to set her off? She _did_ say I lied. I didn't understand the malice behind it, but if she somehow thought—could someone else have given her evidence that pointed to me?”

“Who?” Ellie asked, unsettled by the thought. “I can't see why anyone would. Most people at the NSA either like you or respect you.”

He snorted. “Most people at the NSA ignore me until there's a surveillance warrant they want, and they get mad when I tell them they don't meet the legal requirements for it.”

“You think someone might have been so angry over something like that they'd do this?” Ellie twisted her lip. “They could have heard of Matthews' witch hunt and added fuel to the fire.”

“That is a long list, and we wouldn't have grounds to investigate them.”

“It's still a possibility,” she said, putting her head on his shoulder. “I can suggest looking into it to the rest of the team, though you'd have to give us names.”

“No,” Jake said. “There's too many and without another reason—I refuse to be a part of wasting that much time.” 

She took his hand, lacing her fingers in his. “It would be worth it to find someone who was trying to frame you. And we know someone is and that it's probably someone at the NSA. You said that was where you lost the tie. Do you think it was Taylor?”

“I don't know what I think,” Jake said. “Four days ago, I was just trying to figure out what I wanted in a job outside the NSA. Now I've been accused of murder, we're going to have a baby, and someone is framing me. I don't understand how this happened. Well, no, the one part I do know because it's not like I forgot how babies are made, but this...”

“I wish you'd told me about IA.”

Jake sighed. “I just wanted there to be nothing to tell. She didn't have a case. She still doesn't. I also didn't want to say anything about leaving the NSA until I actually had somewhere to go. I just... I wasn't sure how you'd take as long as Gibbs was still out and the Calling was still a threat.”

“I don't want to keep you from what you want to do,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “You didn't stop me from taking the job at NCIS even though you had your misgivings. I can't do that to you, either.”

He shook his head. “The trouble isn't that I have some other job I want more. I don't. I am more or less happy with what I'm doing. The only reason it's an issue is because it's classified and I can't talk to you about it.”

She studied him. “Are you that happy doing what you're doing? I remember how you were when we investigated that man at the airport. You and your Clue joke—you were having fun.”

“And you weren't. It almost felt like you didn't want me to...” Jake stopped, pulling away from her. _“Did_ you want to keep me separate from your life at NCIS? I know I was busy a lot, but sometimes it seemed like... this was a side of you I couldn't be a part of, that you didn't need or want me there, whether it was meeting your team or calling someone else for help with a case that involved the NSA.”

Ellie shook her head. “How can you ask that? You're my husband. You're a part of my life no matter what.”

“I was a part of your life at the NSA. At NCIS? Not so much,” Jake said. He shook his head. “I don't know. I've just felt like as much as not being able to talk wasn't just about the NSA or national security but about... something else. Would it have been better for you to leave everything behind when you left the NSA? Start completely over?”

Ellie felt sick. Could she have been trying to do that? Was that part of why she and Jake had gotten so distant from each other? She had changed, but had she changed so much she felt like she was better off without him? No. Not consciously, never, but underneath that—could she have thought he was holding her back?

“Jake, none of that matters. Things are different now.”

He shook his head. “If it was the way you really felt, then this is only going to get worse. Ellie, if you stay with me because we're having a child—”

“This isn't about the baby. We started really working to fix things before we knew I was pregnant,” she said, reaching for him only to have him pull away again.

“I don't want to be holding you back, and I don't want you to resent me or the baby.”

Ellie shook her head. “I don't. Even when I was puking my guts up, I wasn't mad at you, and I already told you—this is what I want.”

Jake nodded, but she wasn't sure she'd convinced him, though she counted it as a victory anyway—he hadn't gotten up and left like she thought he would.

* * *

“Do you have a minute?”

Gibbs stopped, looking over at Malloy. “In the middle of a case. Not exactly time for chit chat.”

“I thought I was your lead suspect. Doesn't that make talking to me a part of your job?” Malloy countered, though he didn't have much behind the words. Fatigue had gotten the better of him, though others would jump to different conclusions about the reason for his disheveled clothes and near bloodshot eyes.

Gibbs snorted. He didn't believe Malloy was a credible suspect, wouldn't have even if he hadn't had an unbreakable alibi. DiNozzo had already confirmed that Malloy was in all four meetings, ending with the one that had brought him to Vance. They could verify the rest of his story with cameras if necessary, but it wasn't. Malloy hadn't gone home, and he didn't kill Judge.

“Bishop sick again?”

“If she was, do you think I'd be here?”

No, Gibbs didn't. He didn't know why Malloy had left his wife, though, since it wasn't like Bishop's status had changed. The hospital had released her, but this wasn't over. “This something that should be said in the basement or on the racquetball court?”

“I know you're not cleared for that yet,” Malloy said. “Basement, I suppose. Though I don't know that—I think I owe you another bottle.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You don't have to pay me to have a conversation, you know.”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?” Malloy rubbed his head. “If that is what people think, I suppose the whole murder suspect makes a lot more sense. Maybe I am more like my grandfather than I thought. That's... unpleasant.”

Malloy had never said much of anything about his grandfather before, and Gibbs wasn't sure that mattered. Still, if this was Matthews' doing, then Malloy probably knew more than he realized. Gibbs reached for his coat. “Let's go.”

“Go?”

Gibbs pushed the other man toward the elevator. Malloy might only have asked for a minute, but this would take a lot longer than that, especially with the lawyer's habit of dragging his feet before tumbling out with what was bothering him. Alcohol helped, but while Bishop tended to say whatever was on her mind, her husband was more guarded than the agency he worked for.

“I thought you were busy,” Malloy said as the elevator doors opened.

“And I thought you said that I should be talking to you because you were a suspect.”

Malloy shook his head, going into the elevator and leaning against the back wall. He closed his eyes. Gibbs followed him in, pushing the button. He let the doors close and didn't pull the button to stop the car, not this time. Much as he liked and used his office, it wasn't the right place for this conversation.

“If something did happen to me—you'd all help Ellie, wouldn't you? I mean, with the baby and her being sick and even just with the every day stuff she—”

“You know something I don't?” Gibbs asked, looking over at him. “You getting death threats or does this plan of yours to leave the NSA have something else behind it? You got something medical going on you're not telling Bishop about?”

“No. No. And no.” Malloy looked at him. “Why is it you always assume the worst?”

“Less surprises that way.”

“Right.” Malloy waited for the doors to open, stepping out as soon as they did. “No one has threatened me—aside from what Matthews said, and she was very careful not to make any real ones—she doesn't let herself get trapped like that. She's been walking very close to the line, but she hasn't crossed it anymore than I have. And I'm not sick. I don't have cancer or any other disease, not to my knowledge. Last time I saw the doctor, I was told I was fine, if stressed and maybe in need of a few days off.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Does that even matter? The important part is that I believed them and am operating under the same assumption—that I'm fine—as I was before,” Malloy answered, heading toward the outer doors. “I haven't been able to take much time off lately, but that's not anything new, either.”

Gibbs grunted. That didn't make Malloy fine. Sometimes things were far from fine even when they looked like they were. “Then what the hell makes you think something's going to happen to you?”

“Paranoia?” Malloy shook his head. “Ellie thinks someone at the NSA is framing me, and looking at you right now—she's not the only one. You do, too. She thinks it's Matthews. I don't know. I don't know why anyone would want to do this to me. I've made people angry, but never to where I thought they'd want me dead. Or where they'd kill me to get me out of the way.”

“Not true.”

Malloy stopped at the door, turning to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Parsa.”

Malloy flinched, shoving the door open and backing out of it. Gibbs followed him, knowing that was no small button to push. The younger man stopped against the brick, drawing in air like he'd been sucker punched.

“You thought he was going to kill her,” Gibbs said. “Not before he killed you, though.”

“Ellie said Parsa was motivated by loss, acting out in grief. He would have to take something from her to make her understand that kind of pain. She put distance between herself and her family—it's not to say she doesn't love them, she does—but she's here. They're in Oklahoma. Her daily life was shared with someone else, someone closer, someone... that it theoretically would hurt the agency to harm as well.”

“You doubt your value to them?”

Malloy snorted. “Lawyers are a dime a dozen on the beltway, Gibbs. You know that.”

“Not honest ones. Ones with any kind of moral integrity. Those are damned hard to find.”

Malloy laughed, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, now I really have passed the point where lack of sleep is making me hallucinate. You just gave me a compliment. It was almost backhanded, but it was one. I'm... I don't know how to react to that.”

“Just get in the car already."

* * *

“I'm sorry about earlier,” Jake said after the waitress had walked away from the table.

“I don't give many compliments. You're right about that,” Gibbs said, reaching for his water glass. Jake pulled his coffee mug closer, cupping his hands around it and staring into it. He knew he should be at the apartment, but even after Ellie fell asleep again, he'd been awake, his mind going mile a minute as he tried to get a handle not only on this accusation but on being stalked, the fact that they were having a kid, and his own fears. 

“That doesn't make laughter an appropriate reaction.”

“You worry too much about what the appropriate response is,” Gibbs said, putting his water back on the table. “You said you wanted to talk. You haven't said a word since we got here. I don't have all night for you to get around the walls in your head.”

Jake looked up at him. “What?”

“You know what I mean. We both know how this works. This isn't about me, not about intel I've asked you for, and not about national security. You have to talk circles around it or get drunk enough to let yourself loosen a little to where you can stop building the walls long enough to go around them. Or it's a few very angry hits with a racquet that does the trick, gets you talking.”

“And you are a master of sanding the boat and letting someone else fill the words in for you,” Malloy said. “I still don't know how you do that. Not that I expect something other than silence, but I shouldn't know how to interpret it.”

“You're not a stupid man. Quit avoiding the question. You have a sick wife, and I have a murderer to find.”

Jake didn't know what to say. He didn't now where to start. He had so much in his head right now it didn't matter if Gibbs was right about the walls in his head or not. He picked up his coffee, taking a sip of it before settling on what to say. “Do you really think Matthews is capable of killing someone? You spoke to her, didn't you? I can't see you taking my side without having done that.”

Gibbs shrugged like Jake was making his earlier point. “I did talk to her.”

Jake laughed again, covering it with a hasty sip of his drink. He shouldn't find it so funny, but he did. “You don't like her. You might even hate her. That an IA thing? Her job has a purpose, and it is important to the work we do to have someone keeping us in check. What is that, rule thirty-five?”

“Always watch the watchers,” Gibbs agreed, shifting his position in the booth. “And no, I don't like her.”

Jake set down the mug. “You think her position has gone to her head, that she's abusing it. She's made this personal because she never got to Ellie before, not even when Ellie crossed the line in not reporting the gifts that Parsa was leaving for her.”

Gibbs snorted. “You think she's not pissed at you for getting Bishop off those charges? For making it possible for her to get more of a slap on the wrist than a real punishment?”

“I know the way you work, Gibbs. You'll bend rules to get the results you want. Ellie bent the rules. You'd have been angry if she kept the gifts from you, but you'd have used them just like she thought she could. Like other agents in the NSA have thought possible. Ellie wasn't alone in doing what she did.” Jake shook his head. He didn't like what Ellie had done. He understood it, but that wasn't the same thing. “Her ability to analyze was too important to them to lose her, but some of the others didn't have her track record or her skills. They weren't given slaps on the wrist. In that respect, the situation seems biased. It seems like I was able to do a lot more than I was. I didn't get her off scot-free, though some people still think I did. All lawyers are corrupt, after all, and it was easy for them to guess my price since it was Ellie.”

“You're married to the woman, and they're idiots.”

Jake smiled, nodding before returning to his coffee, needing something to do. He wasn't sure why Gibbs had changed his mind about the basement and gone for this diner, but it wasn't working. “They are. No one understands what that was actually like.”

“It's the reason the two of you started having problems in the first place.”

That made Jake choke on his drink. “What?”

“You heard me. Her lying about Parsa, covering up the gifts, the fact that he'd been in your home, gotten so close, threatened the two of you—that broke something. It had to. It sure as hell would have with me.”

Jake lowered his head. He didn't want to discuss this. Not now, not here, not ever. Facing Gibbs with what he had to say was hard enough without doing it in public. “I never believed what they said about her falling for him. She saw him as a person, not just a terrorist, but she wasn't in love with him or sympathizing with him. It just... Ellie said it herself. We used to talk about everything. She used to call it a 'debrief.' We shared so much. Too much, maybe, and all the time. Every day, except when she was on assignment overseas, and even then we talked as often as we could. When I found out about Parsa, I was blindsided. Not once. Multiple times. It hurt like hell.”

“Still does.”

Jake finished his coffee, not wanting to flag down the waitress for another, not now. “It was more than a personal humiliation, feeling stupid for missing it or not catching her lies, but a professional one. People assumed I was either in collusion with a terrorist or an idiot for trusting her, marrying her, and letting her cheat on me. She wasn't, but I was less of a man for allowing it to happen. I could have been arrested with her if they'd pursued it, and she knew that, but she didn't tell me. It was like she didn't think about what the consequences would be for me, like she didn't care. Sometimes it still feels that way.”

Gibbs was staring at him. Jake knew it, but he didn't want to look up and face that look, either. “Who broke your trust first?”

Startled, Jake did lift his head, right into the look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If it was your father, it has to do with a hell of a lot, since you're on the edge of becoming one. We've already discussed the walls. And who becomes a lawyer to hide behind national security? People do it for money. They do it for causes. For justice or the environment. Not for the bureaucracy.”

“You know that without legal grounds for the surveillance the NSA does—”

“Bull,” Gibbs said, pointing a finger at him. “It wasn't about that and you know it. Did you even want to be a lawyer or was that your father's idea?”

“I have no idea what my father would have wanted me to be. Then again, he probably has no idea I exist, so it doesn't matter,” Jake said, and Gibbs frowned at him. “My mother's husband isn't my father. She's never said who was. I don't know. I had a... decent if slightly distant father figure in my life all these years. Parenthood doesn't scare me because mine were terrible or anything. I think I have the same fears as anyone about screwing it up, and the timing is really lousy, but if I am afraid of anything, it's that Ellie is trying to convince herself this is what she wants—the baby _and_ me—and neither of us is.”

“Damn it, Malloy.”

Jake shrugged. “You asked. More or less.”

Gibbs grunted, leaning over the table and giving Jake a hard stare. The threat was there. The diner wasn't empty, and yet that still wouldn't have stopped Gibbs if he planned to use the infamous head slap Ellie had heard stories about. 

“You have that little faith in her or in yourself, Malloy?”

Jake tried to force his grandfather's voice out of his head. He knew what that man would have answered, just what horrible things he would have told everyone if he had the chance. “Did—was it enough of an answer that I was busy and that was why it took a year for me to meet you and your team?”

“No.”

Jake sighed. “That was what I was worried about. I... Today was the first time I actually managed to ask her, but even after I did, I couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't _want_ to introduce me to any of you.”

“You think that somehow means she's ashamed of you?”

“I don't know what I think,” Jake said, rubbing his head. “Other than this isn't working, and I should get back to Ellie.”

Jake started to get up, but Gibbs shook his head. “Sit. We're not done.”

“Gibbs, we've wasted enough time here already. I don't even know what I thought I'd say to make this... worthwhile. I can't concentrate on anything for long. I get halfway through sorting how I feel about having our neighbor spy on us and then I'm back to being overwhelmed by being a suspect in a murder investigation.”

“Someone set you up. You might even know who that was.”

Jake sat back down. “I don't. I can't see why anyone would want to—I don't have any enemies that I know of. Unless we start assuming it was Matthews, and I don't know why she would.”

Gibbs gave him another look. “Your office is kept secured, isn't it?”

Jake nodded. “The whole building is secure, of course, but given what I do and how much classified information goes through my hands—yes. It is. They don't show where I work on any tours—you never got near it when you met Ellie.”

“So who would have had access to your office? The number has to be small—and is probably monitored.”

“Which would make stealing anything from my office a bad idea. If I dropped the tie in the parking lot, it's different, but I don't think I did. I could ask Ambassador Ivers about the tie—it was a video conference—but he might not remember and even if he did, I don't. I can't tell you where I took it off or where it fell.”

“Still makes a stronger case for Matthews.”

Jake shook his head. “For access, yes, but she'd have to be an idiot to use her own to get in, if that's even what she did. Like I said, it would be easier if I'd dropped it in the parking lot. Someone wanting to frame me would be a fool to use something they got from the NSA—from inside it, at least. Taylor never struck me as that stupid.”

“Really, Jake? Because the way I see it, you thought I was plenty stupid, didn't you?”

Jake turned, startled. He frowned. Shouldn't he have learned more from Gibbs about that sneaking up thing? Why hadn't he heard her coming? The bell for the diner door should have warned him, but he didn't remember hearing it. “I never said that—why would you think that?”

“You know exactly why,” she snapped. She turned to Gibbs. “I thought your gut was famous. Aren't you supposed to be able to tell when someone's lying? You're sitting right across from him.”

“What are you talking about, Taylor? I haven't lied to you, not even about this baseless investigation you're running.”

“You lied plenty when you said you were leaving your wife.”


	10. Doubts and Denials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthews' accusation leads to further investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still catch myself thinking that I let the story get away from me, though I do like some of the complications that have come up in it. They do mean that I am not able to wrap things up as fast as I would like, but there's so much to cover. Not that I know that I would do all of it (nine months, eek.) Still, I have a few things I need to get to first. I'm actually looking forward to one of them. I think that makes me evil. Again.

* * *

“I never said anything like that,” Jake said, feeling sick. He didn't dare look at Gibbs. He didn't want to see that look of disapproval—of _anger_ —that had to be on the other man's face. Jake wasn't a fool. He knew that Gibbs had accepted Ellie as part of his family. If Gibbs thought Jake had cheated on his wife, he was as good as dead.

“You did,” Taylor insisted. “More than once. Said you had to end things with Bishop before you could start something with me. Or are you going to claim you don't remember that?”

“I don't,” Jake said. “How can you claim I said _anything_ like that to you when we barely spoke before the Korkmaz case and your harassment? I didn't even see you for weeks before that.”

She snorted. “Like you were ever man enough to say anything to my face. You did all of this with texts and emails.”

“No. I never sent you _any_ texts,” Jake said, not sure why she was lying about this. He had not done that, any of it. “And the emails I sent were all work-related. You and I have never interacted outside of work.”

“You are such a liar, Malloy. I don't know why I ever thought you were a decent man.”

Jake figured she was about to hit him when Gibbs intervened, standing up and drawing her attention to him. She stopped, almost looking confused. Jake didn't know how she could have forgotten that he was there, but he'd take what he could get right now.

“You keep any of those texts?”

Jake looked over at Gibbs, grabbing the booth as he tried not to be sick. “You _believe_ her? I didn't send her any texts. I didn't—even with our problems, I had no plans to leave Ellie. You know that. I didn't lie.”

Gibbs kept his eyes on Matthews. “Did you save the texts?”

“Like a lovesick teenager?” She shook her head. “I'm not that stupid. Or maybe I was just too angry. Breaking my phone wasn't enough when I found out what he'd done.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You broke the rules for your wife. And when I asked you if it was out of guilt, you said we shouldn't talk anymore.”

“We weren't talking.” Jake ran a hand through his hair. This nightmare just didn't seem to end. “No, forget it. Lie all you want, but you stay away from me and my family. I'll get a restraining order if I have to, and don't play the IA card. I'm giving the NSA notice. I'm done.”

“Malloy,” Gibbs said, but Jake ignored him. He wasn't going to stick around if Ellie's boss thought he was lying. “Damn it, I drove you here.”

“So I'll get a cab,” Jake said. “I can take care of myself.”

“The hell you can. Someone is going to a lot of trouble to frame you, and you are not going out of my sight,” Gibbs said, and Jake stopped, frowning. “Come with me. Get back in the car.”

“Gibbs, I am not—”

“Someone made her think those texts were from you. I think we all want to know who that someone was.”

* * *

Ellie washed her face, sighing. If this was what she had to look forward to, the next few weeks would be hell. This might not even end then, since she could have a complication that meant she'd have it for the whole nine months. She dried off with a towel, leaving it on the counter before returning to the bedroom, hand over her stomach. 

She'd been so focused on getting to the bathroom before she puked that she hadn't even realized that the other side of the bed was empty. She stopped, leaning against the wall, not sure if she needed to run back into the bathroom again.

Though they'd fought—a minor one, really, compared to the sort of ones they were used to in the last few years—Jake had been with her when she'd gone to bed. She hadn't wanted to do it, had wanted to be stubborn about the couch, since she could nap there, but Jake had persuaded her into it. He'd changed the sheets on the bed, offered her company, and she had taken him up on it. She wanted to keep him close after the fight, needing to show him he was wrong about that.

She went back into the bathroom, grabbing a robe. She pulled it on before walking out into the front room. She only needed a minute to see the rest of the apartment was empty. Jake wasn't here. She didn't know where he was.

She closed her eyes with a wince. He couldn't really believe that she wanted him gone, could he? Even before the baby, she hadn't wanted a divorce. Neither of them did, and they wanted it even less now.

She heard a thump outside the door and frowned. She swallowed, going toward it even though she was unarmed. She leaned against the door and used the peephole to peer out.

She reached down and unlocked the door, opening it. “What are you doing here, Tony?”

“Gibbs wanted us to do another search of Judge's apartment,” McGee answered for him. “We keep coming up empty with Judge, and you know how that gets Gibbs.”

“Crankier than usual,” Ellie began, watching them open the door to the other apartment. She looked at the hallway, seeing Tony's gear bag on the ground. He must have let it fall, but he knew better than that. He could have come and gone without anyone noticing. “You wanted to wake the neighbors?”

“No, not really,” McGee said, and when she frowned, he added, “Abby wanted us to check on you, but I said we weren't disturbing you. Tony said if you heard us, you were already awake. Guess you were.”

She nodded. “My sleep schedule was never normal to begin with, but days on end of puking have made it worse.”

“Where's Jake?”

Ellie shook her head. “I don't know. Woke up and he was gone.”

Tony grimaced. “Ouch. Sorry, Bishop.”

“You don't know that he left for anything... untoward,” McGee said, giving her a look of apology. “Maybe he went for more food. We only brought him a few things the other night, and Ducky said part of the reason you were hospitalized was that you couldn't keep any of it down.”

She did not need that reminder. “Yes, that's true. It's just...”

“More fights?”

She didn't want to explain that. “What are you hoping to find?”

“Well, there's always the chance of more messages from you to Jake in borrowed books, but since Abby found a tablet in a hollowed out hardback, who knows what else could be hidden in Judge's apartment? We have to dig deeper.”

Ellie frowned. “You found messages in the books Jake lent our neighbor?”

“Loved the one in _A Time to Kill,”_ Tony told her with a grin, and she flushed red when she remembered what she wrote. “You ever actually do that to him, or was it all talk?”

She sighed. McGee snorted as he walked into Judge's apartment. “She's pregnant, Tony. What do you think?”

“McGee,” Ellie said, embarrassed. “Did you actually _read_ that message?”

“No, but Abby did.”

Ellie winced, tempted to go back into her own apartment and hide, but then she hadn't actually seen the crime scene yet. If her stomach cooperated, she might be able to help on the case, and she would much rather be working. “You took all of his books as evidence?”

“Still looking for more messages. You want to give us a few hints on where the best ones are?”

“No,” she said, hoping against hope that Jake had not lent Judge the collector's edition of Perry Mason novels she'd gotten him or his copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Her team should never, ever see those. She was going to blame those messages on the early stage of their relationship at the time.

“Ooh, there are good ones left,” Tony said. “I'll let Abby know to keep looking.”

Ellie groaned, and McGee gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, did you or Jake ever read McHemingway's book? You know he wrote one staring LJ Tibbs. I wonder what you'd end up being in those books, now that Lisa is gone. I bet he calls you Emmy. Or maybe he'll flip the names like Pimmy Jalmer. Imagine the things you'd get up to on the team. Would you still be married to Jake, or would he write you fancy free and hooking up with McGregor?”

“Tony,” McGee said in warning. “Those books are entirely fictional.”

“No, they're not,” Tony said. “And I still think Palmer should never have forgiven you.”

“I actually agree with Tony,” Ellie said. “I see a lot of where you drew inspiration from real life in the books. Jake and I had a whole conversation as to whether or not the rest of the team could sue for slander.”

McGee winced. “And?”

“Jake said it depended on the lawyer. Some would stretch the interpretation of the law and push for it. Others wouldn't.”

“You better watch how you write Jake, then, McDangerous. I have a feeling if you get his portrayal wrong, he _will_ sue you,” Tony told him, and Ellie tried not to smile. She figured Jake was more likely to take offense to any misrepresentation of her, but she wasn't going to point that out. “And you better leave out the part that has Bishop in her robe right now.”

Ellie looked down, having forgotten about that. “I'm going to go change.”

* * *

“Why'd you have to say any of that to her?” Tim asked, going to his bag. He wanted to check all the walls to be sure that they weren't hiding secret compartments. He knew they'd found one in a book, but Judge could have more. They still couldn't find who was paying him, unable to connect him to Matthews despite Gibbs' theory, and so they had to hope there was something, anything here, because the terrorist threat seemed too vague and coincidental when Judge lived across from Jake and Bishop.

“She deserved fair warning about her potential fictional counterpart,” Tony said. “And you probably should take that warning about her husband to heart. I happen to know he's got a very chivalrous side. He would have made a fake air marshal/assassin apologize for not saying excuse me to Bishop when he bumped her.”

“That's crazy.”

Tony shrugged. “Man has it bad. We all know that. Now has that doohickey come up with anything yet?”

“I've barely started on the walls. Why don't you start looking for loose floorboards?”

“Floorboards. So old school.”

“Old school still works.”

“Boss,” McGee said, turning and almost dropping his device as he did. He winced. “We didn't know you were coming. We just barely got started.”

“You can blame Bishop if you want. She distracted us,” Tony offered. “She went back next door to put on clothes.”

“What?” Jake asked, and McGee gave Tony a look. The other man shrugged.

“Not my fault she came out to see what we were doing in a robe,” Tony said. He eyed Jake. “And what are you doing out and about with your BFF, leaving the pregnant wife at home alone to wonder about your whereabouts when she's sick?”

Jake looked at Gibbs. The older man shook his head, leaving Tim to exchange a look of his own with Tony, who frowned. That wasn't one of Gibbs' hard to decipher messages, but it was weird that he was telling Jake _not_ to talk to them.

“McGee is right, though,” Tony said. “So far we haven't found anything here. Thought maybe when you showed up, you'd have something for us. You do, don't you?”

“Need you to look up texts and emails sent to Matthews,” Gibbs told McGee. “She says she's gotten several from Malloy over the last few months.”

Tony turned on Jake, eying him suspiciously. “Wait, you've been talking to the woman who's trying to arrest you for treason? Like friendly chats? Or are these threats?”

“Either one could get you in a lot of trouble,” Tim said, not sure what to think of this himself.

Jake shook his head. “No, I haven't. She said I texted her and emailed her, and I haven't. That is—I have sent her work related emails. No personal ones. No texts.”

Tim nodded, looking to Gibbs. “So you want me to prove she's lying.”

“She's not.”

Jake glared at Gibbs. “I don't believe this. I realize I'm a suspect, but you don't actually think that I was having an affair with her, do you? I thought you had better instincts than that. You and your famous gut. She's right. It doesn't work.”

“She believes she got emails and texts from you,” Gibbs said. “Doesn't make her a liar. Doesn't even make you one.”

“Gibbs is right,” Tim told Jake. “Someone could have made it look like the texts and emails came from you when they didn't. They'd need some tech expertise, but it's not impossible. Has anyone else mentioned getting weird messages from you?”

“No, the first I heard of it was today when Matthews accused me of lying to her about planning to leave Ellie,” Jake said, sounding frustrated. “This doesn't make any sense. I barely knew Matthews, haven't spoken to her, but she's convinced I'm in love with her.”

Tony frowned. “You sure you never flirted with this woman? Because she had to get that idea from somewhere. Unless she's straight up crazy. She could be stalking you. Maybe she created the whole idea in her head. Now that is an interesting thought. That would be like in that one movie—”

“Tony,” Tim interrupted, trying to stop him before he went on another wild tangent, especially since Bishop had just come out of her apartment again. He gave Jake a small smile. “I'll need a while, but I can get the recent texts and emails. We should be able to determine their origin.”

Jake shook his head. “That doesn't help anything if you already don't believe me, which it doesn't sound like you do. If Taylor thinks those texts are from me, it's going to look like they were. You think she didn't check that? Why wouldn't she?”

“She wanted the lie,” Gibbs said, and Jake stared at him. Gibbs shrugged. “Woman's in love with you. She bought the lie. It's what she wanted to hear.”

“What?” Bishop asked, coming up beside her husband. “What is going on? I thought we were just reexamining Judge's apartment.”

Jake still looked like he was the one about to puke on them. Tim swallowed, but he figured that he'd better explain over Gibbs and Tony, who weren't at all going to handle this with sensitivity.

“Matthews claims that Jake was texting her,” Tim began. “About them... having an affair.”

Bishop put a hand on her stomach. “That's a lie.”

Jake pulled her into his arms. “It is. I swear it is. I didn't do anything with her. I didn't text her. I swear I didn't, Ellie. I don't know why this is happening. I don't understand. I gave you Korkmaz' computer because I still love you. I didn't want our marriage to be over. I would not have an affair. I don't know who sent those texts—Matthews has to be lying. It wasn't me.”

“And you're sure you don't know who would want Matthews to think you were having an affair?” Tony asked. Tim would have smacked him if he was closer, but he wasn't.

“Jake doesn't have enemies like that,” Bishop said. “I can't think of anyone who has ever gotten that mad at him. I would have said it was Matthews behind him being a suspect.”

“Only if she was really getting the texts, it was someone else.”

“And we have no idea who.”

* * *

“McGeek's going back to work with Abby on the texts,” Tony said, watching Bishop as she moved around her kitchen. He knew he should be back next door, but he'd gotten that nod from Gibbs and gone after Bishop anyway. “I think Gibbs is going to tear Judge's place apart piece by piece himself. You doing okay?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

Tony glanced toward the bathroom, hearing the unmistakable sounds of a shower starting. “You believe him, though, don't you?”

Bishop stopped, leaning over the counter for a moment. “Jake and I have been married for years now. I'd like to think I know when he's lying. I always picked up on it before, even when we didn't have national security coming between us—though it didn't happen often when we weren't separated by clearance.”

“What kind of stuff did he lie about?”

“What does that have to—”

“Goes to character, Bish. If he lied about this kind of thing before, then you know you can't trust him, baby or not,” Tony said, trying to keep it a little gentle. Jake seemed to think Gibbs thought he was lying, but Tony didn't actually know that he did. Sounded more like Gibbs thought that both Jake and Matthews believed what they were saying.

She turned, leaning her back against the counter. “Jake is actually really bad at social stuff, in case you missed that. He has been hit on before with me sitting right next to him. The adorable thing was that he didn't even realize it.”

“So there's a case for him accidentally leading her on?” Tony asked. “No, wait. You said you thought Matthews was interested in him. How sure are you about that?”

Bishop bit her lip, considering before she spoke. “Jake and I told you how we met. His third day, my second. That form. She actually met him on his second day, and I think she liked him back then, but he... he never saw her. When we bumped into her in the cafeteria, he couldn't remember her name to introduce us.”

“Only she never forgot him.”

“No.” Bishop took her pot off the stove, filling a cup with hot water. She dunked the tea bag a few times as she thought about it. “At least—I never got the sense she did. Jake didn't even register the interest, but his brother said that was the way he always was—that he didn't know what was right in front of him.”

“There was someone back home they all figured he was going to marry, wasn't there?”

Bishop nodded. “Oh, yes. I was very much _not_ what anyone expected. Jake's so...”

“Straight-laced? Uptight?”

“Yes. And if you knew his family, you'd understand.”

“Money and pretensions,” Tony said, since he'd figured that out himself a while back. Malloy was obvious money. He didn't even know the ways he gave it away, but Tony knew few men who wore as good of suits as he did, and Malloy was on that short list. He was used to dressing well, took it completely for granted, like anyone who came from money did. “Matthews does seem to fit that image better than you.”

“Which may be why she still held onto the idea that she had a chance with him, especially if she knew we were having problems,” Bishop said. She dropped the tea bag in the trash and took a sip from the cup. “Even when we were, though, I never thought he'd cheat on me. It's... not him.”

“Someone wants us to think he did. And if it's not Matthews, then who is it?”

“If I knew, Tony, I'd tell you,” Bishop said. “I don't like this any more than you do. Less, even. We're talking about the man I married. The man who is the father of my child. He can't have killed anyone or had an affair. That just... can't happen.”

Tony frowned. “You make any enemies besides Parsa?”

“What?”

“You said that no one hates him enough to target him, but maybe he's not the target. Maybe you are. If they wanted to hurt you, destroying your husband and ruining your marriage might only be the beginning.”


	11. Findings and Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and McGee make some progress while another angle of the case becomes more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped to get to the one part I'd been planning on by the end of this chapter, but it felt forced, so I decided to hold off on it. More fluff got in, which I kind of like. And I get this feeling that once I find a stopping point for this story, there will end up being others. *sigh*
> 
> I made a few assumptions about Jake's job and ran with them for the sake of the story.

* * *

If anyone had told her earlier, she would be discussing her marriage with Tony DiNozzo, she would have laughed. The idea seemed ridiculous. She hadn't expected Tony to be all that understanding of any of this, but somehow him staying after Jake went into the shower wasn't weird. It was comforting, like talking to George, almost, or one of her other brothers. She almost didn't feel like she was in the middle of a case, didn't feel like he was invading her privacy or that she was saying too much, letting people have details of her personal life they didn't need.

For the case, maybe Tony did need this. Or maybe it was just easier this way, taking the opportunity she'd been given. This way she didn't have to have her team wondering why she would believe Jake, why she wasn't a fool for doing so.

And she didn't want to believe she was.

She trusted Jake. She'd known him for years. She was an analyst, and she had analyzed her husband. He had said she used to take years to plan before making a move—and she had. She'd taken weeks to give him an answer to his proposal, and he'd actually thought she was going to break up with him, not say yes. Her instinct said yes, but she'd somehow managed to quiet them with overthinking and overthinking until she was sick of it and they eloped.

Jake's family had not been happy. Neither had hers, though for a different reason. Her mother was disappointed by not being able to be a part of it and her brothers because no one was good enough for her. Her father had thought she'd taken his words about growth through challenge too far, since Jake seemed to be anything but her comfort zone.

His family...

She shook her head, going back to her tea. She knew there was a reason they hadn't told either of their families about the baby yet, and it wasn't because she was in the hospital. It wasn't even because it was too soon to be sure she'd keep it.

“You make any enemies besides Parsa?”

“What?” Ellie asked, frowning. She had gotten a little too caught up in the past, remembering the early days of their marriage and worrying about the awkwardness of trying to explain a baby to their families and ended up completely confused by Tony's question.

“You said that no one hates him enough to target him, but maybe he's not the target. Maybe you are. If they wanted to hurt you, destroying your husband and ruining your marriage might only be the beginning.”

“I don't—Parsa was really the only one, Tony. I didn't—I'm not a big part of most cases, even if I help, and so far no one has targeted me. Not like you or Gibbs or even McGee. I'm... not a threat, either,” Ellie said, putting her hand on her stomach as it tried to turn on her.

“Easy, Bishop,” Tony said. “I was just trying to figure this out. It seems to be about you or Jake, but why? Like, you two are so nice and normal. It's almost... disgusting. You as the happy couple, I mean.”

Ellie put a hand to her head. “Except it's not all like that.”

“So you're saying he _did_ cheat on you?”

“No,” Ellie said, folding her arms over her chest. “I don't believe that. Jake wanted to work our problems out. It's why he gave us Korkmaz' computer. He didn't have to. He shouldn't have, from what it sounds like, but he did it because I asked him to. And it was what we needed. We... reconnected after that, in a way we hadn't in years. We are working things out.”

Tony nodded. She didn't want to ask him if he believed her. He probably thought she was being dumb about it, but she didn't see it. Everything Jake had shown her was a sign he wanted to stay together, to make things work, not that he'd already thrown it away.

She heard a phone ring, and she welcomed the distraction as she went to get it, grabbing it from the counter before Tony could.

“Bishop.”

“Answering Malloy's phone again, are we?” the director asked, and Ellie winced, not sure how to explain that to her former boss. “I take it he's occupied at the moment.”

“Yes. Is there anything I can—”

“Tell him to come in. Immediately.”

“Can I tell him what this is—”

“Above your clearance level.”

The call ended, going to silence and making her almost wish there had been a click on the line. She saw Tony watching her.

“Gibbs?”

She snorted. “He'd just yell from Judge's apartment, remember? No, that call was for Jake. The NSA wants him to come in.”

“That happen often?”

“On occasion,” Ellie answered. It all depended on what was going on at the time, and sometimes it was a crisis. Sometimes it just meant that they were dealing with something overseas, and Jake got the short end of that stick a lot because he was better at international law than some of his colleagues.

“Hey there, Jake,” Tony said as he came into the kitchen. “Had to wash the other woman off, did you?”

“Tony—”

“Actually, it was vomit, but thank you for that, Tony,” Jake said, his almost polite tone telling Ellie just how mad he was. She gave Tony another warning look before going to his side.

“They just called for you. They want you in immediately.”

Jake groaned. “If this is about Matthews—”

“It could just be routine,” Ellie said, putting her hands on Jake's face. “It's okay. Just go in, find out what they want, and come back home. Actually—come by NCIS. I get the feeling I'll be at work by the time they let you go.”

He leaned his head against hers. “I should just ignore it. I don't care about giving them two weeks notice.”

“That is a bad idea with the NSA.”

“I'm so tired of all of this right now, and I do not want to go in there and find out Matthews decided to press charges or something equally ridiculous.”

“Jake, I believe you,” Ellie said, looking into his eyes. “That's the important thing. Hold onto that, forget the rest, and know that when it's over, I'll be waiting for you. Well, at work, but still waiting. Both of us.”

“I think that's unfair advantage.”

She laughed. “You've been saying I had that since day one, remember? Now go ahead and go. If it makes you feel any better, you are so breaking the dress code.”

“I'll have to borrow your truck. I left the car at NCIS when I met Gibbs.”

“That's fine. I'll bring it home for you.”

“You hate driving it.”

She grimaced. She was always afraid she'd break something on Jake's car. It was ten times more expensive than her old beat up pick up truck. “I hate thinking about what your mother would do if I did something to break her present.”

He snorted. “Attempts to buy one's children off with gifts don't deserve that kind of respect. Though I do actually like that one. Only dent the fender, okay?”

“I could always knock off a side mirror...”

“I love you,” he said, giving her a kiss. She knew Tony was watching, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted Jake to leave feeling he had her support, and she also just wanted to enjoy a kiss from her husband that wasn't expected or perfunctory, the kinds of things they did when they were coming and going, meaningless gestures they expected after years of marriage. This was real. He had done it on impulse, pouring feeling into it.

“Now that is the sort of thing that got you into this mess,” Tony said, and Ellie rolled her eyes as Jake stepped away from her. She swore he was this close to flipping Tony off, but he was too much of a gentleman for that.

“Be careful,” Ellie said, ignoring Tony's comment. “Please.”

“That's my line,” Jake said as he cupped her cheek. “You have the dangerous job.”

“And you're the one being threatened.”

“I'll be fine.”

* * *

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby began, smiling when he entered the lab. He was right on time, though she got the feeling that McGee would have wanted more time before he got here. Still, it wasn't like they didn't already have something for the silver haired fox, which was good. “We have something for you.”

“You always do,” Gibbs told her. He looked at McGee, who grimaced. “Something wrong, McGee?”

“Well, I'm not done yet, boss,” McGee answered, sounding frustrated.

“That doesn't mean that we don't have anything for you,” Abby said, deciding to take over the show herself. “Now, given the nature of the work Jake does and who he works for, he has to have a secure phone. As in... everything this thing does is encrypted. And monitored by the NSA. Which explains why Jake and Ellie's texts to each other are so mundane when the notes she left in his books are way racier and—”

“Abby,” Gibbs interrupted, and she grimaced. She actually found that interesting herself. She wondered if censoring themselves for the NSA was part of the problem between Jake and Ellie before. Hard to be in love—or even just in lust—with people watching.

“NSA level encryption should be very hard to break,” Abby said, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes at McGee.

“So you've got nothing.”

“No,” Abby said, excited. “We still have something. McGee's already into Jake's phone. That's how we know about the text being so boring.”

“Someone already hacked Malloy's phone.”

“Someone already hacked Jake's phone,” Abby agreed. “McGee found a backdoor into it, and it gave us access, just like whoever already broke the phone's encryption has access. We checked the log for Jake's texts—not one to Taylor Matthews at any of her numbers. Jake was telling the truth. He never texted her.”

“And the emails were work related,” McGee said. “He sent her a forward or two about updated legal processes that related to her job. Nothing else in the last six months.”

“So she lied.”

“Not necessarily,” McGee said. “That's what I'm working on now. Matthews' phone isn't as easy to get into because there's no existing backdoor, but we would have had to verify the information on the phone with the provider's records anyway—which we did do for Jake's phone.”

“And he didn't send the texts just like he said,” Abby said. “However, it was too easy to access Matthews' emails as well—she uses the same password for all her online accounts, it seems—and so we've got emails. Someone sent her some. A lot of them. All of these seem to have come from Jake. And they are... fifty shades of creepy. Well... because we know Jake and because he's married to Bishop and it's just wrong him talking about doing that to some other woman.”

Gibbs frowned. “So Malloy was emailing her, just not texting her?”

“It wasn't Jake,” McGee said. “The emails weren't sent from his account, but from a separate one that's been set to appear as his when the messages are forwarded. We're still tracking the origin of the account, but it seems to be going to a lot of trouble to look like Jake did it.”

“Jake wouldn't have to fake anything. He could have just sent them.”

“With the NSA watching?”

Abby shrugged. “They can't do anything to him for cheating on his wife. Some people would say emails aren't even cheating, though with the content of some of them, I disagree.”

“They're both telling the truth,” McGee said. “She got emails and probably texts, but Jake never sent them. I still need time to backtrack them and find the actual person who sent them.”

Gibbs nodded. “Get it done.”

His phone rang, and he answered it, walking out of the room. McGee sighed, and Abby patted him on the back as she went back to her own computer.

* * *

“Nice of you to join us, Malloy.”

Jake would have expected that remark from Matthews. Maybe Martinez. Hearing it from his supervisor wasn't the greatest of signs, but he wasn't sure he cared. After the last few months, he didn't want his job anymore, and he couldn't bring himself to care how he left the agency. Matthews had already ensured it was going to be under a dark cloud, so what did it matter?

“You act like I wasn't out on emergency leave,” Jake said. “I wasn't actually due back until tomorrow afternoon. Though I suppose Matthews told you the minute Ellie left the hospital and so you've considered me available ever since.”

Walker gave him a look but did not answer. Jake forced himself not to say anything more. He knew better, and most of the time, he had more control, but he was struggling to keep his temper with all the stress he was under. The accusations stung, and he hated the doubt they brought with them. If things had been different, _would_ he have gone to Taylor? Could he have broken his vows like that?

“We're going to need a lot of warrants,” Walker said, pointing Jake to the files on the table. “One for all of them.”

Jake put a hand to his head. “Am I really the only one that got brought in for this? If it's such a crisis, why wouldn't there be someone else here? It's not like I am—”

“You're already read into this and familiar with the threat,” Walker said, putting a separate file in front of Jake. Its contents slid out across the table. “In more ways than one, I understand it.”

Jake gagged, turning away from the picture that had fallen out of the folder. “That was my neighbor.”

“Mark Judge. Marine reservist. He's one of six that this new terrorist organization has claimed responsibility for in the last three days.”

Jake put a hand on the table. “Six? Six more and no one else knows? You didn't even tell NCIS, did you? They're investigating Judge's death. My wife's team. Gibbs doesn't know, though. I'd know if Gibbs knew this organization had claimed responsibility for him, and it doesn't even fit because someone tried to—”

“We need warrants, Malloy.”

Jake shook his head. “It doesn't fit. They're lying, at least about Judge. They have to be.”

Walker fixed him with a hard look, reminding Jake of his grandfather when he was a kid. “Terrorists are killing our retired servicemen. NCIS is looking in the wrong place. I'm not surprised. They don't have our intel. We don't even have the intel we want, not without those warrants.”

Jake reached for one of the other files, starting to read. “Are you wanting surveillance because you think you can protect these people if you get it?”

Walker shook his head. “You have a lot of work to do. I'd stop asking unnecessary questions and get it done before more people die.”

Jake closed the folder. “I have never just taken anyone's word for why we need surveillance on any individual or organization. I even made my own wife justify her requests, and you know it. Why would you expect me to be any different now? I need reasons besides a vague, unproven terrorist connection. Unless this is all a damned test, in which case, tell Matthews she's wrong—again—and I'm going home.”

“You have everything you need in the files. Better get reading.”

* * *

“Interrogation?” Matthews snorted as she entered the room. “What the hell has Malloy got on you, anyway? What makes you so willing to look the other way with him?”

Gibbs glared at her. She was pushing all the wrong buttons. Not the first to question his involvement with Malloy, since DiNozzo and McGee had done plenty of that, but she seemed to imply it had other motives besides Bishop and her husband being family. 

“Not looking the other way with anyone.” He never had. He never would.

“Sure you're not,” she said, sitting down in the chair and leaning back in it. “I do this for a living, Gibbs. I won't be intimidated.”

“I never said you would be,” he told her, taking the other seat. He opened up the folder, knowing he'd have to bluff part of it, since Abby and McGee still didn't have a name for the anonymous sender of the emails, but he figured he had enough to bait Matthews and see where that led. “You aware that someone broke the encryption on Malloy's phone?”

“What? No. That never happened. All phones and devices are monitored for—”

“All this code is meaningless to me, but McGee says this is the backdoor. Right here. He was able to access Malloy's phone and through it his texts. Not one was made to you.”

She shook her head. “You're covering for him. I don't know why. Shouldn't the fact that he was cheating on a member of your team—your family—change that? He doesn't deserve your protection. He lied. He betrayed her. And you.”

“No, he didn't.”

Matthews grimaced. “You're not going to tell me that the three of you are involved in some kind of sick triangle, are you? Or is it just a threesome? That why you like him? He is good looking, after all. I fell for him and his lies.”

Gibbs grunted. She didn't even know how ridiculous she sounded. “Malloy did not send those texts. Or the emails. My tech people can prove it. You're the one making unfounded accusations. The one sounding like a jealous idiot.”

She glared at him. “I'm not lying. I didn't make up those emails or the texts.”

“I never said you did,” Gibbs told her, and she frowned at him. “I believe you got them. I don't believe Malloy sent them. Someone wanted you to think he did, though.”

She swallowed. “Why? What the hell did they have to gain by that?”

Gibbs shrugged. “You tell me. You were investigating him. That start before or after the 'relationship?'”

“I didn't start it because he dumped me if that's what you're asking.”

Gibbs grunted. He took out a photograph, passing it across the table. “You know this man?”

She barely looked before shaking her head. “No.”

“Look again. His name was Mark Judge. He was a former marine. And he was spying on the same man you were investigating and 'involved' with,” Gibbs said, leaning forward across the table. “You really going to claim you have no idea who he was?”

“Yes,” she answered, “because I don't.”

Gibbs had believed her about the texts. He didn't believe her about Judge. Even if she wasn't the one who paid him, she would have seen him while doing her own investigation. She'd have to be blind or the worst investigator he'd ever seen to miss him.

His phone rang, and he rose, taking it out of his pocket and going to the wall but not bothering to leave the room. Keeping his eyes on Matthews, he answered, “Gibbs.”

“They claimed responsibility for Mark Judge's death.”

Gibbs frowned. “The hell they did.”

“I don't believe it any more than you do,” Malloy said, proving once again he wasn't an idiot, “but Judge is one of six former military that the organization claims to have killed in the last three days. They're either lying, or they're escalating.”

“Or both.”

“Or that,” Malloy agreed. “I think they're lying about Judge. He doesn't fit. Not when someone tried to frame me for it. Still, none of us can afford to ignore the escalation. I would like to have Ellie's analysis of this. I think she could identify likely targets—so could other NSA analysts, but I've always preferred her take on things, and not just because she's my wife. She's good, but she also listens when I ask her for more. Most analysts just assume lawyers don't know what they're talking about so I should shut up and get the warrant.”

“That happen a lot?”

“None of you actually know what I do for the NSA, do you?”

Gibbs shrugged. It had never mattered before, not when Malloy could give the intel they needed or access to something else that would make their jobs possible. “Just one.”

“Analysts make reports which go to their superiors who decide what to do with them, and only a few of them come my way. I don't have much direct contact with anyone, so... Most of my interaction with analysts tends to be on the hostile side, since most of them don't seek me out until after the legal department—which is not just me—refused to pursue their analysis due to lack of grounds.” Malloy almost sounded amused. “I don't actually know why I just explained all that. I just thought you should know about the claim.”

Gibbs nodded. They needed to know that, and a lot more. “How long are you gonna be?”

“Hours. I've got a stack of warrants the NSA wants to file for, and I should get back to it.”

“I want you here in thirty minutes.”

“Gibbs, I am not a part of your team, and I don't take orders from you. I am not—”

“Thirty minutes,” Gibbs repeated, hanging up. He turned back to Matthews. She'd been listening the entire time, trying to catch more than his side of the conversation, judging from the way she was sitting, but he doubted she'd gotten anything.

He sat back down, facing her. “You were explaining how you knew Mark Judge.”

* * *

“You gonna tell her she should be in a chair and not on the floor?”

Jake considered Tony's suggestion, fighting amusement. He actually liked watching Ellie work, and she didn't seem like herself when she wasn't on the floor with her headphones in. She might not be doing it for much longer—he couldn't see her liking trying to get up off the floor once her stomach was larger—she wouldn't even enjoy getting down, but for now, she could enjoy it, and he didn't feel like stopping her.

“Have you seen Gibbs?” Jake asked instead. “He said he wanted me here. I don't know why I listened, why I came, but I'm here, and I should probably talk to him.”

“The two of you getting back to BFFs, then?”

Jake put a hand to his head. He didn't want to discuss that. He still didn't know why they called the two of them that. “Where is Gibbs?”

“Not sure. Haven't seen him since I got back. Abby and McGee are down in her lab, trying to track those texts and emails, but so far no Gibbs. Very suspicious, now that I think about it,” Tony said, tapping his finger to his lips. “Hmm...”

Jake shook his head. He wasn't sure where to start looking for Gibbs. He should never have left, not with half the stack of files still waiting to be processed, but even though his notice wasn't officially in, he still had a hard time convincing himself that he should be there.

Ellie turned to grab something from her desk drawer, stopping when she saw him. She pulled out her headphones, jumping up and then catching herself on the desk. “Okay, that was only a good idea before I stood up.”

“Nausea back?” Jake asked, wincing. “I'm sorry.”

“It was fine until I rushed up. Then I got a little light-headed,” she said. She smiled at him. “You're back sooner than I expected. All done?”

“No, I have a stack of files to go through and warrants to get, but Gibbs said he wanted me here, and for some reason, I came. I don't even know that I want to go back.”

“That doesn't sound like you. You have such a good work ethic—this is what Matthews has done to you?” Ellie asked, wincing.

“This isn't about her. Her harassment doesn't help, but I was planning on leaving the NSA before she really started. I just didn't have anything lined up yet. I don't know what I'm going to do,” he admitted. That actually didn't bother him. He looked at her, smiling despite everything as the craziest idea came into his head. He reached for her hands. “What would you say if I didn't get another job right away?”

“It's fine,” she said. “I want you to find something that's right for you.”

“And if I said I wanted to be a stay-at-home dad?” Jake asked. “Became a bit of a kept man?”

She smiled, moving her hands up around his neck. “One, I'm not sure you'd like that all that much, and two—your family has the money. Your mom would probably _buy_ us the house once she finds out about the baby.”

“Then we won't tell her,” Jake said. Ellie laughed, shaking her head at him, and he put a hand on her cheek, leaning his head against hers. “I love you. Both of you.”

He heard a noise behind him, something sort of strangled, and they turned. He'd expected some rude comment from Tony, but instead he found himself looking at Matthews. She pulled away from Gibbs and almost ran to the elevator, and Jake swallowed, feeling sick.

He knew. He just _knew._

“You walked her by us on purpose.”


	12. The Danger of Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation into texts and terrorism continues with a few awkward conversations along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had the last part of this in mind for a few chapters ago, but things just kept pushing it back and back.
> 
> Then it was a bit of a nightmare to write and still feels horrible, but I had one of those epiphanies about how it all comes together, and I like those, so I'm almost happy.

* * *

“Standing operating procedure,” Tony said, getting a look. He shrugged. “Well, not only is that the only real path to and from interrogation, but we walk suspects past something we think will upset them all the time. It's a viable tactic. Suspect sees their accomplice, thinks they're talking... Spills everything. Cops do it all the time.”

Jake just stared at him, and Gibbs shrugged. Knowing the boss, he wasn't about to apologize for what he'd done, and Tony didn't blame him. Thing was kind of funny even, since she'd bolted faster than Bishop did when the morning sickness got bad, but then that was the point, wasn't it? Gibbs wanted to be sure that Matthews knew that Jake and Bishop were having a baby.

“I can't believe you did that.” Jake said as he shook his head. “That was low, and you used me. Us. Both of us. Don't you understand how wrong that was? Someone already hurt her and used me to do it. They convinced her we were in an affair—”

“And I convinced her you were never a part of it.”

“You're welcome,” Tony added for Gibbs, who glared at him. He shrugged. He wasn't going to apologize, either. It was better that Matthews knew she had no chance with Jake, right? Plus, she had to have pissed Gibbs off again for him to pull that on her. He wanted her rattled, and the baby news was a good way to make that happen.

“I'm not going to thank you for that. This is wrong,” Jake insisted. “Am I the only one who saw the way she reacted to hearing Ellie was pregnant?”

“You're starting to sound like you care about her.”

“And you're both starting to sound inhuman,” Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't do anything with Taylor, but she's still a person, and she shouldn't be treated like that. She's been manipulated and—”

“She lied,” Gibbs said. “She said she had no idea who Judge was, but if she's watching you, then she knows. She probably hired him to do that surveillance, and I'm not going to tiptoe around her feelings when she's lying to my face.”

“You know, you said my job sucked, but I think yours does,” Jake snapped. He sighed. “I shouldn't have come.”

“I'm still glad you did,” Bishop told him. “Not because of what happened with Matthews, but right before that... That was good. And we can discuss the whole stay-at-home thing later.”

Jake managed to smile for her. He touched her cheek for a moment and then dropped his hand, going over to her desk. He picked up her sticky notes and wrote on the top one, pulling it off and holding it for a moment. “Officially—I never gave this to you and have no idea how you got it.”

She frowned. “What?”

“No idea what you're talking about,” Jake said. “The truck is parked in the back of the lot when you're ready to leave.”

She continued to frown at him, but she didn't stop him from leaving. Tony crossed over to her side, peering at the paper.

“Names?” Tony asked. Was it code, or were these names supposed to mean something to them? “Why did he give you a bunch of names?”

“Look them up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs ordered. “Give everything to Bishop when you've got it.”

* * *

“Okay, that is just hinky.”

“What's hinky?”

“Gibbs,” Abby said, turning around to face him. She ran over to get her Caff-Pow, smiling at him as she did. She took a sip, pointing to where McGee was still frowning over the computer. She set the drink down on the desk and faced him. “We think we have found the person sending the texts posing as Jake.”

“And?”

“And that's where it gets hinky,” McGee said, grimacing. He turned away from the computer, not liking what he had to tell Gibbs. “They were sent by Mark Judge.”

Gibbs frowned. “What?”

Abby nodded. “That's why we hadn't rushed up to tell you. It's weird, right? We figured Judge was hired to spy on Jake and Ellie, so him sending texts impersonating Jake doesn't really fit. Well, it does but it doesn't.”

“It could have been personal,” McGee said. “He started stalking Jake and Bishop because he wanted to make his texts and emails to her seem credible.”

“Except how did he ever meet her, and why fake being someone else—a _married_ someone else—to get to her?” Abby put her hand on her hip, shaking her head. She didn't understand why he'd go to that much trouble. Sure, she'd had some guys pull some weird things to get with her, but Judge looked nothing like Jake. The whole thing would have fallen apart as soon as he tried to make it real.

Unless he didn't _want_ to make it real.

Then it didn't matter. He could keep having a relationship through the texts and emails for as long as he wanted.

Except...

Jake was with Bishop, and Bishop was having a baby. That would have ruined things, even if the rest of it seemed to be working. Matthews worked with Jake, so she'd know. She'd thought that Jake lied about the texts and emails, so she knew his actions didn't fit what the texts said.

“It doesn't make sense,” McGee added, “but I can't find anyone behind Judge. The trail ends there. It looks like he's the source.”

Gibbs frowned. “You're missing something.”

“I traced the emails to Judge,” McGee insisted. “I didn't find any sign that someone else had tampered with them the way that they had to make it look like they were from Jake.”

“Judge didn't kill himself,” Gibbs said. “If these emails are from him—”

“Could have been Matthews, boss. She managed the same backtrace that we did, and she found out that Judge was lying to her, faking this relationship, and she killed him.”

Gibbs shook his head. “No. She was the one who told us about the emails and texts. She gave us her motive.”

“Yeah, but didn't she tell you that to point a finger at Jake?” McGee asked. “Maybe she is the one who tried to frame him with the tie, and when that wasn't enough, she pushed things by telling us they were in communication. If we hadn't found the hack on Jake's phone, we might have seen those emails as proof that Jake was having an affair with her.”

“Except that we already had the photos that Judge took in his surveillance of Jake and Ellie,” Abby reminded him. “There's not one in there with Matthews. If he was actually having an affair, there should be actual _contact._ Not that you can't say things you shouldn't in email, but we could probably have used the time stamps on the photos and his phone records to disprove the theory, too. If he wasn't on his phone when the texts were sent—”

“We'd have even more proof that he didn't send any of them,” McGee said. Then he frowned. “It still doesn't explain why Judge would have faked the texts or why she'd tell us about them if she knew. Something's still wrong here.”

“Find it,” Gibbs ordered. “Now.”

* * *

“That's five for five. Well, six, but we already knew about Judge,” Ellie said, spreading the papers out on the floor. She knew that Gibbs had told her to use her desk, but she didn't feel like this was a desk time, plus she'd already figured that pregnancy put her enough outside her comfort zone to where working on the floor again was not even close to making it even. “All of the names on the list are former military, either retired or in the reserves.”

Tony nodded. “Two army, two air force, one national guard, one sailor, and our own dead marine reservist.”

“Two accidents, one probable suicide, one supposed natural causes, one murder, and then there is one still missing,” Ellie said, reaching over into her drawer for a bag of cookies. She opened them up and took one, biting into it as she turned the papers around. “Not a word about eating for two.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Tony said, and she rolled her eyes as she rearranged her papers. “We both agree on why we were given this list, right?”

“I know nothing of this list you speak of,” Tony said and she shook her head, since he'd just agreed about the list a second ago. “But... if I were to know of some secret list and to have looked into names that were on it, I might just believe that we were given it because some terrorist organization—which remains unnamed—took responsibility for these deaths.”

She nodded. That was her point, and she was glad Tony agreed with her. While sometimes he was rude and a lot of other inappropriate things, Tony had good instincts and was a good agent. She trusted his judgment. Mostly.

“The question is,” she began, taking out another cookie, “were they claimed because they were actually all murdered or is this group just using their deaths to their advantage?”

“Seems more likely it's the latter,” Tony said, leaning against his desk. “I mean, if the whole point is to cause panic and fear—the definition of terrorism—then they're not doing a very good job by making it look like an accident or suicide.”

Ellie finished off her cookie and went for another. “Unless that was the point. Not only can they get to anyone, they can make it look like they didn't.”

“Not sure I buy it,” Tony said. “Sell me on it.”

She snorted, laughing over her cookie.

“Something funny, Bishop?” Gibbs asked, and she looked over at him with a frown.

“Boss,” Tony said. “We were just discussing the not-list that we very much did not get from Bishop's husband.”

Gibbs gave him a look, and Ellie tried not to laugh again. “And?”

“And all of them were former military,” she said. “So it's easy to assume that the names are people whose deaths were claimed by the terrorist organization, but Tony and I aren't sure if they actually did it. Most of them don't fall under our jurisdiction, and only one of them was murdered.”

“Judge.”

“Yes,” she answered, going for another cookie only to find the bag was empty. She sighed, forcing herself to leave the food alone because she was going to throw up again if she ate more, much as she wanted it. “Did McGee and Abby have anything?”

“Judge sent the texts.”

“What?” Ellie didn't know what to think of that. It didn't make sense. Well, no, something did, in the back of her head, a thought that wasn't fully formed but already starting to nag at her as it took shape. “Are they sure?”

“I'm not,” Gibbs said, and Ellie supposed that was answer enough. If Gibbs wasn't convinced, none of them were. “Which of the other cases falls under NCIS jurisdiction?”

“Our winner is Bobby Jones,” Tony said, picking up the remote and putting the images on the screen. “Bobby was a lieutenant on the Coral Sea. He was on leave this weekend when he was involved in a very fatal car crash.”

“Any indication it wasn't an accident?”

“Well, it did involve a drunken driver but—oh, wait, that was our lieutenant,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Sorry, boss. We can't get more conclusive than that. Not yet. We did loop in Ducky, and he is standing by to review the four autopsies.”

“Four?”

“One of the former army members is only listed as missing,” Ellie answered. “No body. No way to know if he's actually dead or not.”

“So they could all be false claims.”

“Yes, boss. That was what we were just discussing when you came up. It's almost a shame Colonel Mann left CID. We might have had an in with the army for those investigations if she hadn't and you hadn't—never mind,” Tony said, grimacing. “I'm gonna go liaise with the other office about our dead lieutenant.”

Gibbs looked over at Ellie. She gave him a smile and a shrug. “I'm working on the bigger picture here, Gibbs, but it might take a while.”

“Work fast.”

* * *

Jake set down his pen, shaking his head. Walker wouldn't like it—he hadn't had grounds for every file, despite what the other man thought, and he wasn't going to push for warrants without them. He knew better than that. He wasn't going to waste anyone's time. If they wanted warrants, they'd have to give him more reasons, and this threat wasn't enough. He didn't even know that it should be a threat, and he knew some would say that was the point of the warrants, but it didn't feel right.

He picked up his keys and his coat, pulling it on as he went toward the door. He shut off the light and closed the door behind him, hearing it lock as he did.

He took out his phone, grimacing at the time. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep, but he had told Ellie he'd go by NCIS after he was done. He didn't need to—he'd gotten his car when Gibbs pulled that stunt with Matthews, and she was going to be at work for a while yet, so he could just go home instead.

No, Ellie would rather he stopped by, and he knew he could. He wasn't to the point of passing out on his feet, and he was a little curious about the list he'd passed along, even if he shouldn't have done it and shouldn't know what they found out, either.

He put the phone away as he went out into the hallway, passing by some of the analysts that were monitoring the feeds from the part of the world that was actually supposed to be awake at this hour. He didn't know anyone, and he doubted they knew him, so it was a quiet, solitary walk to the outer door. The guard waved as he left, and Jake winced when he realized he didn't know the man's name.

He shook it off as he made his way to his car. He crossed the lot to the back row. He'd left the convertible under the lamp post, like he always did, preferring to walk over having someone damage the car. He didn't mind if Ellie did it, but he didn't want some random stranger dinging the door or backing into it. At least under this light he'd know who did it.

“Jake?”

He stopped, turning around, feeling a bit sick as he did. “Taylor? What are you—”

“I want to talk.”

He grimaced. “I don't think that's a good idea. I... I did want to say that I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know that Gibbs was going to do that. It wasn't... right.”

Matthews shifted, looking at her feet. “It wasn't staged, though. She... is pregnant.”

Jake nodded. “She is. She... It's why we were at the hospital. She was dehydrated... couldn't stop throwing up... I—I never intended to leave her. I never sent those texts. I don't—I'm sorry someone used me to hurt you. I honestly had no idea that someone was pretending to be me and leading you on like that.”

She looked at him, frowning. “I think I almost believe you.”

He knew he couldn't do anything else to prove it to her, so he didn't bother trying. “I was on my way out. It's been a long night, and I haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately, so I'm—”

“I loved you.”

Jake winced. “Taylor, that wasn't me. I've never... I love my wife. We have some problems, but that hasn't changed how I feel about her. I don't know. Maybe if things were different, I might not be saying that, but they're not.”

She nodded, and Jake reached into his pocket for his keys. He didn't know that he could say anything else. He didn't want to. He didn't know how to deal with her, and he didn't know how to feel about her saying she loved him. He didn't love her back, and he couldn't make it better for her.

“You want a boy or a girl?”

He flinched. “Don't do this to yourself. You don't need more pain. I... I am leaving the NSA, I don't know if that will help, but I think it's for the best.”

She shook her head as she came toward him. “I don't want you to do that because of me. I know that the investigation may not have seemed balanced, but I can admit when I'm wrong.”

Jake frowned. “I never said it was about the investigation. I really don't—”

“I was weak,” she went on, getting even closer to him. “I wanted to believe it was all true. I'd seen how you were with Bishop. What woman wouldn't want that?”

“Um, Taylor, I don't think that this conversation should—”

“And I think I did pursue the investigation thinking that maybe you might change your mind about us,” she went on, and Jake shook his head, turning to unlock his door. He wasn't going to stay for this. He knew maybe she thought she had to admit it all to atone or something, but he wasn't comfortable hearing it. She put her hand on his arm. “I think I kept hoping right up until I heard about the baby.”

He shook his head. This was still wrong, and he wasn't letting it go on any longer. He started to open the door, and the glass shattered next to him. He jerked, still trying to understand that when Taylor's body slammed into him, knocking him back against the car. His side stung, and he slid down the against the car, her weight carrying them both to the ground.

“What was that?” Jake looked up at his window, still confused, but his mind was trying to tell him that it must have been gunfire. He hadn't heard it. His side tried to tell him he felt it, each breath like a stab, and he really hadn't thought Taylor weighed that much until she was on top of him. He tried to push her off, his hand coming away wet.

Blood. He was touching blood.

“Taylor?” Jake asked, afraid she was dead.


	13. In Shock and Disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds out about the shooting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had started this earlier, and then I realized I made a really bad miscalculation in where I ended the last chapter. I would have rearranged scenes, but I found a way to go on without that, I think.
> 
> I think I have an ending in mind, which I'm glad of because this story has gotten away from me too many times.

* * *

“Any change?”

Abby and McGee jumped at the sound of Gibbs' voice, and he frowned. That was guilt. Guilt didn't have a place here, but they had it all over them. He didn't like where this was headed. He knew they were working. They just didn't have the answer he had told them to find earlier.

“None,” Abby answered. “Gibbs, we tried. We failed. The emails don't trace to anyone else. They were sent by Mark Judge.”

“So were the texts,” McGee said. “It was so obvious it was staring me in the face the entire time. They were sent using the same faked email address, not the phone number. It all looked like it had come from Jake, but none of it did.”

“Already knew that, McGee.” Gibbs shook his head. “You have any proof that Judge had the know how to do all this?”

“Strictly speaking, it's not that sophisticated.”

Gibbs glared at him. “You said the phone was encrypted. NSA level. That is more than sophisticated. Or at least it damn well should be.”

McGee winced. “I... Yes. It is. I had it easy getting in to Jake's phone because it was already hacked, but it was more difficult to do with Matthews' phone. Most of what we know is from his service provider's records, his phone, and the email accounts. She kept the conversations, giving us the whole picture and allowing us to trace the forwarded emails back to their original account and to Judge. He sent a lot of them from the tablet he used to keep tabs on Jake and Bishop.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You got any proof that Judge knew how to hack the phone?”

“Zero, actually,” Abby answered. “This tablet isn't sophisticated. Judge was still reading print books. Which... isn't necessarily an indication of anything, since he borrowed a bunch of them from Jake, but Judge didn't have anything else even remotely tech savvy. No desktop computer, no smart phone. Nada.”

“Find the hacker,” Gibbs ordered, watching them both wince. “Get everything to Ducky. See what he can make of the emails.”

“They're a fake relationship,” McGee said. “What can that really tell us?”

“She believed it was real,” Abby reminded him. “She may have wanted to, because Jake is super cute and super sweet—most of the time—but if Judge did something that was very obviously not Jake, he'd have ruined the whole scheme.”

“We're not actually thinking he was stalking Bishop and Jake just because he was trying to make the messages authentic, are we?” McGee asked with a frown. “That's extreme, isn't it?”

“Not necessarily,” Bishop said, walking into the lab. “Sorry. Interrupting. I just... I was looking over the files upstairs and I went through my drawer looking for the right snack, which is so much more complicated with this morning sickness—”

“Bishop,” Gibbs said, trying to get her to the point. “What did you find?”

“A bag of Taylor Matthews' favorite junk food,” Bishop answered. “One of the few times we got along, she and I shared a bag of them and complained about men. She'd just been dumped, and I was annoyed with Jake for what I thought were mixed signals—which they weren't but we never talked about it again for me to tell it was just Jake being very nervous about meeting my family. Anyway, it hit me that we were looking at this all wrong. We thought someone was framing Jake, and Tony said if they weren't after him, they were after me, but what if neither of us was ever the target?”

“Matthews was,” Gibbs said, thinking about how that changed almost everything they knew about the case. The faked text messages and the investigation itself made her seem like an irrational, jealous stalker. She would have been discredited at the very least. Her career with the NSA was over, and her reputation was shot. No one would have believed anything she might have uncovered—on Malloy or anyone else.

“I think we may be looking for someone else at the NSA, someone who may even be guilty of treason,” Bishop said, grimacing. Abby moved over and guided her to the door.

“Remember, the lab sets off the nausea.”

Bishop nodded, leaning against the wall and taking several deep breaths. Gibbs waited, wanting her to get herself under control before he put her in the elevator to go back upstairs. No sense in making that thing smell for days.

He took out his phone and made a call, putting it to his ear as it connected. “Malloy, you still at the NSA? We need to locate Matthews.”

“Oh... I can tell you where she is,” Malloy answered, sounding off. “Not sure it helps you any.”

“Just keep her where she is. We want to talk to her.”

“That's going to be rather difficult,” Malloy said, and Gibbs almost thought he sounded drunk. “Talking to her, I mean. Not the keeping her where she is. She's not moving. Not one inch.”

“Malloy—”

“I think she's dead.”

* * *

Jake didn't hear any more shots, but then he hadn't heard the first one. He didn't see anyone else, not from here, but he couldn't see much from the ground, half buried under a still not moving Taylor. He was having a bit of trouble breathing, and he couldn't tell if that was because she'd hit him hard when she knocked him into the car or if her weight was the problem.

He couldn't see anyone, either. He twisted, trying to get his phone out of his pocket. Shouldn't security have sent someone by now? This was the parking lot for a classified government agency. Someone had to be watching.

He was about to call for help when the phone rang, making him jerk. He hit the car again, wincing. That had hurt more than it should have. He answered the phone when he saw it was Gibbs. That was a good thing. Gibbs meant help.

“Malloy, you still at the NSA? We need to locate Matthews.”

“Oh... I can tell you where she is,” Jake said, looking at her body still pinning him to the ground. She was already dead, so that didn't do much good, did it? “Not sure it helps you any.”

“Just keep her where she is. We want to talk to her.”

“That's going to be rather difficult,” Jake told him, and then he almost laughed because he knew he couldn't move Taylor. He'd already tried. She wasn't going anywhere, but if they wanted answers from her, they weren't going to get them. “Talking to her, I mean. Not the keeping her where she is. She's not moving. Not one inch.”

“Malloy—”

“I think she's dead.”

“Damn it,” Gibbs said. “Where are you?”

“By my car,” Jake answered, feeling sick and very tired. “I was leaving, and she came up to me. Said some stuff that was really awkward... I was going to get in the car and then she just... fell. No, wait, the window broke first. I... There was blood. I remember that, too. Though it seems to be getting all jumbled up somehow. Why hasn't anyone come? This is the NSA. They monitor everything but their own parking lot?”

“Focus, Malloy,” Gibbs said, and Jake tried, though it was difficult. “Were you hit?”

“I thought I said she hit me when she fell. She hit me and I hit the car and... blood,” Jake said, trying to stick to the important parts.

“Was any of the blood yours?”

Jake looked down at his side, finding the rip in his coat, following it to the hole in his shirt and a sharp pain that almost made him drop the phone. That explained a few things. “Uh... yes. It... I think some of it... is mine.”

“How much?”

“I don't know,” Jake said. Did Gibbs expect him to count it somehow? That wasn't possible. He couldn't have even if he'd known right away that he was bleeding. His side had hurt, but he'd thought that was just from hitting the car. “I... You never said... you'd make sure... Ellie was fine... If something happened...”

“That's because you're not allowed to go anywhere.”

Jake almost laughed. Gibbs couldn't just will this way. Jake must have been shot. He didn't remember hearing anything, but he hadn't heard Taylor being shot, either, and he was sure she had been. He wasn't sure why he was sure, but he was.

“I'm sorry,” he said, leaning back against the car and closing his eyes.

* * *

Ellie leaned against the wall, wishing she could will herself not to puke. She'd forgotten all about how Abby's lab got to her the other night, acted like she would on any other case, coming down to find Gibbs and tell him what she'd discovered. All of that would have been fine if she wasn't pregnant with a baby that seemed to make her have to puke at every little thing.

Abby joined her against the wall, rubbing her back, and Ellie managed a small smile, grateful but not daring to voice it until the nausea was gone again. She should take more of her medication when she got back upstairs.

“Malloy, you still at the NSA?” Gibbs asked, speaking into his phone and getting Ellie's attention immediately. She didn't want Jake anywhere near that woman, even if she knew he wasn't cheating on her. “We need to locate Matthews. Just keep her where she is. We want to talk to her.”

“You don't have to go see her,” Abby said, close to Ellie's ear. “Even if she is the target, she did try and steal your man, so...”

Ellie almost laughed. That shouldn't be funny at all, and it wasn't, not really. 

“Malloy—” Gibbs said, frustrated. “Damn it. Where are you?”

“That does not sound good,” McGee said, looking over at Gibbs. Abby smacked him, but Ellie was already thinking it, and her stomach was rolling again.

“Focus, Malloy. Were you hit?” Gibbs asked, and Ellie grabbed the first thing she could—McGee—and holding on tight enough that he gave a slight whelp. “Was any of the blood yours? How much?”

“No,” Ellie said, struggling to control herself. Now it wasn't just puking. She was going to start crying, and she didn't do that. She didn't cry in front of people. This wasn't happening. Jake was fine. He had to be. She wasn't losing him now, not when they finally had them back, when they were about to have a baby.

“Try and stay calm, Ellie,” Abby urged. “We don't know that it's that bad, and you have to think about little Bishop.”

“That's because you're not allowed to go anywhere,” Gibbs said, but a moment later, he lowered the phone, looking ready to throw it in frustration.

“Gibbs—”

“He was in shock, Bishop,” Gibbs told her as she started to fall apart. He took hold of her arm, guiding her into the elevator. “Wasn't sure if he'd been hit or not.”

Ellie nodded, trying to believe that was a good thing. She didn't know that she could. Her husband—the father of the baby she hadn't even had yet—could be dead. Abby gave her a hug, and she flinched, even as much as she might need comfort.

“What about Matthews?” McGee asked. “Do we know anything about her?”

“Malloy thought she was dead,” Gibbs said. “What is the NSA protocol—”

“For this?” Ellie shook her head. “I don't know that anyone's ever been killed on agency grounds. They monitor everything, so if someone was shot, they should already be on site with emergency personnel... I don't know that I can do this. I can't think right now. This isn't happening. Jake has the safe job. He's just a lawyer. He doesn't have enemies. This is wrong.”

“They were after Matthews.”

“That doesn't make it any different if Jake dies,” Ellie snapped, feeling trapped. The elevator was too small, and she couldn't get free, couldn't breathe. She was going to start puking any second now, and she just wanted to curl up and cry. She wasn't even going to blame hormones for that.

“He's not allowed to die,” Gibbs said as the elevator stopped. “And he knows it.”

* * *

“You shouldn't be here, Bishop. You know that.”

“Jake is still my husband. Matthews was a suspect in our case. I have nowhere else to be unless you tell me which hospital Jake's at,” Bishop said, her voice not quite as convincing as it needed to be, but then Tony figured she was close to puking, if not actually losing the baby she was carrying. Damn, this was bad. Real bad. “Walker, please. I need to know what happened to Jake.”

The agent grimaced. “The area is classified—”

“Malloy said he was in the damned parking lot,” Gibbs interrupted, angrier than Gibbs should ever get. Tony almost felt bad for the guy, but then he was the one that wouldn't tell them what happened to Bishop's husband and Gibbs' BFF. He didn't deserve much sympathy. “Don't you dare hide behind clearance. Two of yours were attacked. They could be dead. We have information that can help you find their killer, but I'm not giving you anything as long as your head is as far up your ass as it is.”

“I'll take that information,” another voice said, and they turned to see Fornell walking up to them, a couple junior agents in tow. “Seeing as how the death of federal agents falls under our jurisdiction.”

Walker frowned. “The NSA can investigate the deaths of its own people. This isn't—”

“Your internal affairs officer is one of the dead,” Gibbs said, and Bishop flinched. “Malloy might not be, but he was pretty sure she was.”

“And that would be why my office got the call,” Fornell agreed, giving Walker a tight smile. “This is my case now. You can either get out of my way or face charges for obstruction. My people will be taking over the crime scene.”

Walker glared at him. “This isn't over.”

“Feel free to call your superiors,” Fornell said as he walked away. He shook his head. “Idiot didn't even insist on forcing you to leave.” 

Gibbs glared at him, probably telling him that he was lucky he still had a career and jurisdiction to speak of. They were not going to leave, no matter what the others thought. “This is our case, Tobias. Malloy's one of ours, and Matthews was our suspect up until a few minutes ago.”

Fornell grimaced, starting toward the parking lot. “Bring me up to speed. I wasn't given much of a briefing—just that the NSA had a breach and there were possible fatalities. What do you know about Matthews?”

“Not as much as we need to,” Gibbs admitted. “She was IA and investigating Malloy. Accused him of bias, giving classified intel to Bishop and my team that he shouldn't have.”

“Any truth to that?” Fornell asked, and just about everyone glared at him. He held up his hands. “I have to ask. It's my job.” 

Bishop shook her head. “Jake did help us, but never in a way that compromised national security. His job is defining that line, and he's good at what he does. He never took any steps that were against the law.”

Tony wasn't completely sure about that, but he didn't know just how far Jake had bent the rules for them, either. “Someone had set her up, used Malloy to do it.”

“We had just traced a bunch of fake emails and texts back to a dead marine reservist,” McGee added. “He'd sent them posing as Jake and led Matthews to believe they were in an affair, leading in part to her investigation.”

“Woman scorned,” Fornell said, grimacing. “What was Malloy doing with her?”

“We assume she approached him,” Gibbs said, though Tony knew that Jake might actually have tried to apologize to Matthews for what Gibbs had done earlier. “Can't be sure of anything else until we can talk to Malloy.”

Fornell nodded. “Anything else I should know?”

“We were also looking into a possible terrorist threat that could be connected,” Bishop said, stopping and covering her mouth as she fought her gag reflex.

“That's technically classified,” McGee said. “Tony and I weren't read into it right away.”

“Our going theory leaned toward the threat being a hoax,” Tony said. “Our dead reservist was one they'd claimed credit for killing, which didn't fit with his surveillance or the attempt to frame Jake. We now believe the actual target was Matthews and the relationship was created to distract and discredit her.”

“You think someone at the NSA wanted her dead?”

“One of the attempts to frame Jake involved planting a tie he'd lost while at the office at our crime scene,” McGee answered. “Jake works in a secured part of a secure building. It had to be someone with access. Plus we still can't find records on Judge's actual employment or any sign he had enough skill to break the encryption on Jake's phone and emails.”

“Anything else I should know?” Fornell asked, looking at them.

Tony glanced toward Bishop, not the only one to do so, but then he shook his head. “Not at all.”

Fornell frowned like he didn't believe them, but he didn't get much of a chance to ask. They'd reached the parking lot, and even the ones that shouldn't be running took off, leaving him behind. Tony didn't know that he could stop Bishop, but she shouldn't see this if it was the worst, so he had to get there first, find out.

He ran up Jake's car, noting the very broken window before he saw the woman still on the ground. Matthews. She was dead. Damn. Not unexpected, but still, not good.

“The man who was with her?” Tony asked, catching his breath a little. He followed the finger to the back of the ambulance, coming around it. “Please tell me you have a live patient in here.”


	14. The Wounded and Weary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team investigates Matthews' shooting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My recent experiences with a couple of poor chapter endings made me want to continue one story until it was done, and this one got the vote because it was closest and I'd burned myself out a bit with the one episode tied fic. So I went ahead and pressed on. I think it needs just a little bit to wrap up the case, which is good.

* * *

“'Not wounded, sire, but dead.'”

Tony snorted, tempted to shove the EMT out of the way and give Malloy the kind of hug that Abby was famous for.” He hadn't expected to be so relieved to see that the other man was alive. Malloy was Gibbs' BFF, after all, not Tony's. “Well, look at you. Not just alive but with a very excellent quote. _The Philadelphia Story._ Hard to go wrong with Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart.”

Jake managed a weak smile. “Was either that or... 'It's just... a flesh wound.' Or is it... scratch?”

“Both, and they are also excellent choices for quotes,” Tony said, ignoring the glare from the paramedic. He leaned in to get a better look. “Although I'm not sure that counts as a flesh wound, Malloy. Looks a bit worse than that.”

Jake nodded, closing his eyes. “Feels like it, too. Head... so fuzzy... Like that time in college... with the...”

“Ooh, this sounds like a good story, but hold that thought because I have to go get someone who is very worried about you. Well, two, but only one really matters—do not tell Gibbs I said that,” Tony said, giving Malloy a warning that had him laughing even as it proved useless. “Ah, boss. Nice timing as usual.”

Gibbs grunted, turning to Malloy. “Don't ever pull a stunt like that again.”

Malloy shook his head. “Didn't want to talk to her. Didn't know... she'd been shot... never heard... anything... Just... hit the car... found blood... Ellie. Where's Ellie?”

“Right here,” Bishop said, still looking a little pale.

“Sorry,” Malloy told her. “Was... didn't want... scare you... just... couldn't stay awake. You... okay? What about—”

“She's going with you to the hospital,” Gibbs said, and the paramedic started to protest. He glared the woman into silence. “She's pregnant. Her husband was just shot. She goes.”

Tony helped Bishop climb up into the ambulance. She took Malloy's hand, leaning her head down against his, her other arm around her stomach. Tony wondered if she was going to throw up in there, but at least now they didn't have to worry so much about her losing the baby. That would make Abby happy. Little Bishop would be fine.

“We need to get him to the hospital,” the EMT said, though he didn't seem all that willing to challenge Gibbs.

“What did Matthews say?”

Malloy grimaced. “It... nothing important... just... stuff about... how she felt. About... me. I... She was... I... I was trying to leave... window broke. She hit me... I never heard anything. Don't understand.”

“Jake, Taylor was the target,” Bishop explained, and he frowned and then nodded, closing his eyes. She looked back at Gibbs. “I think anything else is going to have to wait until after the hospital.”

Gibbs nodded. “Go.”

Tony stepped back, watching as the emergency crew finished loading up. The doors shut, and the engine started. The truck drove away, leaving them standing there. “What do you think, boss?”

“Wasn't a close hit.”

“Sniper,” Tony agreed, looking out at the side of the lot. “He might not even have been on the property then. Think that was intentional?”

Gibbs turned, walking back toward Fornell and McGee. Tony wasn't sure how this all added up. It made sense, almost, to make it look like the hit had come from outside the NSA, but then the other parts of it pointed to someone with access. The hack. The tie. The hidden money trail. Matthews. Even Malloy.

Stopping at the car, Gibbs looked back out of the lot. He pointed a finger toward the tree on the edge of the landscaping. “See if our sniper left anything behind.”

“Yes, boss,” Tony said, not sure why Gibbs hadn't already sent him over there.

“We may have something here,” McGee said, not looking at Matthews' body. “Only one window was broken, so one of the bullets is probably inside the car, and the other looks to have hit the door.”

“Jake said one was a miss. We need three bullets, Magoo,” Tony said, looking down at the body. “She was hit twice in the back. One of them hit Jake and the car, too, but the other one didn't. That's just weird.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Shooter was inexperienced.”

“Thought for a second you were going to say that our missing army guy was the one,” Tony said, and McGee frowned at him. He shrugged. “We got a few names, supposed targets of that terrorist organization Jake told us about. One of them is missing. And I think he was a sniper.”

“Give me the name,” Fornell said. “My people will run him down.”

“I want Ducky to take the body. Abby gets the car,” Gibbs said, and Fornell nodded, not arguing with either one. He turned back to Tony. “Sniper's nest. Now.”

* * *

“Got anything for me, Duck?”

“About what you'd expect, I'd say,” Ducky began, looking up from the table as Gibbs and Fornell entered the room. He felt as though he had barely started his examination of Agent Matthews' body, but he knew that would not matter to either man, not when one of theirs had been threatened. “Have we heard anything about Jakob or Elanor?”

Jethro nodded. “Bishop called. Malloy won't need surgery, but they want him overnight for observation. Her, too.”

“I imagine the stress of these events took a toll on her already weakened body,” Ducky said, shaking his head. “They'll probably want to keep her on an IV again and monitor the child's heartbeat, assuming that she hasn't already—”

“Ultrasound said it was still there,” Gibbs interrupted. “What can you tell us about Matthews?”

“She was in otherwise good health up until her death,” Ducky began. “Not a red flag to be had anywhere. No doubt about the bullets causing her death. One, in fact, would have done it. The second was overkill.”

“We don't believe her killer was a professional,” Fornell said. “He fired three times, missed once. Didn't police his brass.”

“Very sloppy,” Ducky agreed, having dealt with other sniper victims before and finding most held true to the concept of one shot, one kill. Very few left behind bullet casings for the others to deal with, and Ducky's job was almost always straight forward in those cases.

“Possibly intentional,” Gibbs said. “He may have intended to frame someone else.”

Ducky frowned, halting his examination of Matthews' liver. “If the intent was to frame Jakob, they seem to have failed miserably. He was also injured. If Matthews' body had not slowed the bullet before it hit him, it likely would have been fatal.”

Jethro nodded. “We know. Did you get a chance to look at those other autopsies?”

“I reviewed the files, yes,” Ducky said, removing his gloves and disposing of them before going to his computer. He gave a silent apology to Matthews, intending to finish his examination as soon as he could, and what he had to tell them about the other deaths would not take long. “I was only able to see what the others had found, not do my own examination, of course, which leaves me at somewhat of a disadvantage, but what I did see supports the conclusions they reached.”

Jethro frowned. “No sign of anything but accidental death or suicide?”

“Not a thing,” Ducky said. “I have the most from our sister office that investigated the lieutenant's death. I helped train their medical examiner. He is a very competent young man, and I don't doubt his findings. The only way that this death could have been something other than an alcohol induced fatality was if someone somehow forced our lieutenant to consume past the legal limit. I believe Anthony asked the local office to verify that it was not the case. He did not report back to me, though I assume if it was not, we all would know.”

“We would,” Jethro said, looking at the screen. “What about the suicide? Anything there?”

“With the case history, it seems unlikely. Unfortunately, the young man in question suffered from severe PTSD, and having been the only survivor in his squad, he was haunted by the deaths of his friends,” Ducky answered, shaking his head. “It is still a tragedy, and one would have hoped that with therapy he could have overcome his survivor's guilt, but we will never know. However, nothing indicates anyone else was at the scene or that it was in any way staged.”

Fornell frowned. “Where does that leave us, then? We have a terrorist group claiming the deaths of former military personnel who died by accident and suicide? What's the point?”

“Good question,” Ducky said. “Though I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you. Perhaps that question is best put to the man who drew our attention to the angle in the first place. Do let me know if there is any change in either Jakob or Elanor's condition, will you?”

Jethro gave him a slight smile as he walked out of the room.

* * *

“You find anything yet?”

Abby looked up from the driver's seat, forcing a smile. She still had a lot to do, since the car was plenty of work on its own, but she also had samples to run from Ducky and Tony, and he should know that instead of standing over her asking her if she'd found something.

“I started with the door and was able to dig a bullet out of it,” Abby said, grimacing. That was unpleasant, especially since she was pretty sure that was the one that hit Jake. “I've got a bit of trace evidence from where it impacted to test as well. Cleaned up all the broken glass to check as well, but I have yet to find the third bullet. Why?”

Tony shrugged. “I just remembered you saying once you could learn a lot about somebody from their car. Was a little curious about what you'd found out.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Aren't you supposed to be finding a missing sniper?”

“McGee's teamed up with the FBI for that,” Tony said. “I figured I'd keep you company. Haven't done that in a while. Kind of miss it. Those early days when it was just you, me, and Gibbs... Not that it wasn't good having more people. Kate. McGee. Others.”

She gave him a smile, touching his arm. “You could pretend to bribe me for faster results and we could go out to dinner for old time's sake if you want.”

“So you'll speed up the ballistics match?”

“Depends,” Abby said, eying him suspiciously. “What do I get in return?”

“Undying gratitude?”

“You can do better than that,” she said, turning back to the car and running her hand over the seat again. She would have thought the bullet would have gone into one of them, but so far it was being very stubborn. “And you could help.”

“As you wish,” Tony told her, and she grinned as she reached under the chair. He put on a pair of gloves and opened the other door. She rolled her eyes when he started with the glove box. “Malloy is kind of a neat freak. Who keeps their glove box factory new? It's like he's never used this thing.”

Abby leaned forward and pushed the button, looking at the odometer. “Not according to this. He's put over fifty thousand miles on it. Unless he bought it used—”

“Nope. Heard him and Bishop talking about how it was a bribe from his mother.”

Abby frowned. “This?”

“Malloy's family apparently has plenty of money,” Tony said, putting the few things from the glove box back in it. “Registration, owner's manual, and insurance. Not a personal thing in here.”

“Jake is pretty clean cut.”

“You like that about him, don't you?”

Abby laughed. “What, are you jealous, Tony?”

“Of you, Abs? Always,” Tony said, smiling as he reached over into the middle compartment. “Ah, here we go. Proof that Jake is definitely married to Bishop. Look at all the food crammed in here, and I happen to remember her saying that he hates this flavor.”

“That's so sweet,” Abby said. “But you're supposed to be finding me a bullet.”

“I would never disappoint a lady,” Tony told her. She shook her head, but he turned back to the passenger door and pointed to the faux wood paneling. “I'm thinking it hit here.”

Abby stepped back. Yeah, it was hard to see from here, blending in a little with the paneling, but she still shouldn't have missed it. “Thank you.”

“I aim to please,” he said. “So... about those ballistics tests. Any way to speed them up?”

She smiled. “It's been a long time since you took me to Cafe Atlantico.”

“I think we can fix that.”

* * *

“You look like hell.”

Malloy nodded, eyes still closed. Bishop leaned over to comb her fingers through his hair, pulling on her own IV as she did. She didn't look much better than he did, worn out by stress and fatigue, still pale despite the medication and fluids.

“They had him for what seemed like forever cleaning out the wound,” Bishop said, shaking her head. “Of course, I started puking again, which didn't help. The chemicals here make it worse.”

Gibbs grunted. He wasn't sure that was all it was, but none of them wanted her to be down with the complication Ducky had mentioned. He couldn't afford to be out his agent for that long, and none of them wanted her suffering, either.

“Everything is still kind of... fuzzy,” Malloy said. “Taylor was shot, right?”

“Looks like the work of a sniper,” Gibbs agreed. “Possibly Emilio Rosa.”

Malloy shook his head. “No. They had the filmiest case... on Rosa. He... He usually goes.... off the grid... to hunt. Was going to tell you... ask his family about... favorite grounds. Didn't get warrant for anyone... with Rosa. No... evidence.”

“You sure about that?” Fornell asked. “Thought you said it was fuzzy.”

“When Taylor... died,” Malloy said. “Not when I was... working in my office. That part... very clear. Wasn't injured. Tired and annoyed. Not too tired to do... my job. Rosa's case... lacked probable cause. So did... the NCIS one. Not Judge. Jones. Clear cut drunk driving case.”

“Ducky agrees,” Gibbs told him. “So you think that the terrorists lied?”

“Proving that... is not my job. I don't know. I just knew I didn't... have legal grounds for all the warrants Walker demanded,” Malloy answered. “When I passed the information to Vance... said you were better equipped to know if the threat was real.”

“I resent that,” Fornell said, and Malloy shrugged.

“Murders were former military,” Malloy said, and then he looked at his wife. “And I am slightly biased. Ellie's team—Gibbs' team—is the best.”

Fornell grunted. “The FBI hasn't even heard of this threat. I wasn't read in. Friend of mine in Homeland says there's no such thing.”

“Could be the NSA didn't pass the information along,” Gibbs said, though he kept his eyes on Malloy. “Who told you to take this to Vance?”

“Walker. He caught me as I was leaving. Just got off... international call. Wanted to sleep. He gave me the file, asked me to take it to NCIS... He knew I was heading there,” Malloy said, tensing. “I just remembered... that. He knew, but I didn't say anything. And he called me in... about the warrants. Knew... Matthews was investigating me. It was Walker, wasn't it?”


	15. Making the Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team reviews the case and tries to tie their suspect to the crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think after this all I need is an epilogue to tie up the last of the loose ends. 
> 
> For now, obviously. There is still a nine month thing to worry about...

* * *

“It fits. Walker is NSA. He knew Matthews. He could have hired Judge. He would have access to ways to break the encryption on Jake's phone. He saw Jake right before he left to brief Vance, which was probably when he lost his tie, the one we found at Judge's apartment. He would have been in a position where he could create a semi-credible terrorist threat and also keep anyone from disproving it as that threat. We know he told Jake to brief Vance and that he asked for more warrants. He was even in a position to keep emergency personnel from reaching Jake and Matthews in time and we know he tried to block having another agency investigate Matthews' death,” McGee said, running down the facts of the case that aligned with the suspect Jake had given them.

“Don't forget that we have an inexperienced sniper and a conveniently missing one that was part of the terrorist threat, just like Judge,” Tony said. “Walker could have chosen to use that as a way of covering his tracks. We might even find that Rosa was experienced with the same kind of rifle, which would explain why Walker didn't police his brass. He wanted us to think that it was Rosa.”

“So we have a credible theory,” Fornell said. “Where's our proof?”

“That is where we run into a snag,” McGee said. “We can't put Walker at Judge's apartment. There's no sign of him in the forensics, he wasn't on any cameras, and technically, Judge was dead before Jake was out of the meetings, so if Walker took his tie—and the tie only has Jake's DNA on it—we can't prove he planted it.”

“Jake is the one who gave Vance the briefing. Walker only sent it to NCIS which not only makes it look like if it was real Jake was exercising bias, but if it wasn't—he could argue that Jake was the one who created it. Since he was the one who got the warrants, it also points back to him.”

“Except that Jake has a solid alibi for when Judge died. All of those meetings can be verified,” Bishop said, arms folded over her chest. “And we could ask for confirmation on the tie as well.”

“We also lack motive,” Ducky said. “What reason did Walker have for killing Agent Matthews? For creating an elaborate hoax regarding her relationship with Jakob? Or for attempting to frame him in Judge's murder? Arguably, the hoax was perpetuated in order to make Jakob a suspect in her eventual death—they had an affair, he broke it off, she became vindictive and pursued an investigation against him so he eventually killed her.”

“Except Jake was hit by the sniper, too.”

“Perhaps that was supposed to happen. Jakob hired someone with experience to make it look like he was not involved but a victim himself,” Ducky said. “Remember, we are theorizing. I offer the counter argument that anyone attempting to build a case against Jakob would make.”

“Something forced Walker's hand,” Gibbs said. “Ruined the whole plan.”

“You think this was a long term thing,” Bishop said. “Walker started out months ago with the intention of setting up Jake to take the fall for killing Matthews.”

“We still don't know why he wanted Matthews dead,” McGee reminded them. “And why fake an affair? It wouldn't hold up—we were able to disprove it.”

“Could Walker have had an affair with Matthews himself?” Tony asked. “If he did, he'd have known she was willing to bend that rule, maybe even that she had a crush on Jake, and he would have known how to make the affair seem real.”

“There wasn't even so much as a rumor about them when I was at the NSA,” Bishop said. “Actually, the rumor about Walker was that he was... um... in the closet.”

“It didn't have to be personal. If Walker was guilty of treason, he would have wanted Matthews out of the way, either by discrediting her or killing her. Maybe both. Framing Jake would do both, since even if he was proved innocent, she'd lose her reputation,” McGee said. “There was just one problem.”

“Walker underestimated NCIS,” Jake said. “Thought nothing of having you investigate.”

“He was also unaware of the impact Elanor's condition would have on our team. It made certain members of our team more determined to prove Jakob's innocence and had we not recently had considerable proof of Jakob's devotion to Elanor, we may have believed Matthews' claim that she and Jakob were involved in a clandestine affair. The fake emails would not have been traced. The tie would have been near damning evidence, especially coupled with the surveillance Judge had done, one that arguably would have proved Jakob's affair had he not silenced his accuser.”

“Have to figure that wasn't the only way Bishop being pregnant screwed up his plan,” Tony said. “He didn't know that Jake was going to take emergency leave or that she'd have an alibi for Judge's murder—being with Abby—and he may actually have planned on framing her then.”

“Great,” Bishop muttered, putting a hand on her stomach.

“We did put out the theory that Jake used your gun to kill Judge,” McGee reminded her. “It was the same type, though not the one issued to you by NCIS.”

“And we have to figure if he really wanted Jake blamed for Matthews' death, he'd have gone for a close quarters hit, something that would make it look like it had to be Jake, not something that would almost exonerate him because he got shot, too.”

“Unless Jake was the target then and Matthews got in the way.”

“It's another thing Walker couldn't have predicted—Matthews' reaction to finding out that Bishop was pregnant.”

“She didn't seem to know that you were having a baby until she saw you and Jake at NCIS,” Tony said. “How'd she miss that when she saw you at the hospital?”

“HIPAA. She'd have needed more than just her NSA credentials to get information on Ellie's condition because it was not an immediate threat or tied to a crime,” Jake answered. “Taylor would have needed a court order, and she'd have to go through me to get it. It wouldn't have happened.”

“The investigation into Matthews' death is out of Walker's hands,” Gibbs said. “He needed to control it to put the angle on Malloy. Without that, Malloy looks like what he is—a victim.”

“Abby and I can go over every forensic detail again, but if we can't find anything,” McGee said, grimacing. “How do we prove that it was Walker?”

“Find the original crime. He went to a lot of trouble to silence and discredit Matthews. This isn't just about murder.”

“It's about treason.”

* * *

“I'd say it was good to see you, Malloy, but I'm not so sure it is,” Vance said, gesturing to the nearest chair. “Should you be out of the hospital?”

“The consensus is that the wound is not life-threatening, so I don't have to be there, much as the doctors and even Ducky were against me leaving, but also that the sooner I left the hospital the more of a threat I would seem to Walker,” Jake said, accepting the chair with a bit of relief. He wanted nothing to do with guns. Ever. Being shot once was more than enough for him.

“Dangerous game to play in your condition.”

“But the only one I can play,” Jake said. “I can't let him frame me for murder or treason, and I can't let him do it to anyone else, either. He may have intended to go after Ellie, and we've had enough scares in the last week.”

Vance nodded. “Where do we stand, then?”

“Tony went to meet with Officer Teague to look into possible intelligence leaks, McGee was reviewing NCIS cases for the same thing with Abby's help, Fornell went to consult with Homeland, and Gibbs went to meet with someone who might have answers,” Ellie answered as she sat down next to Jake. “I would have asked my old contacts at the NSA, but we're not sure if Walker's watching them or if they'd accidentally tip him off doing the right thing, and we can't take the risk of him getting away with this.”

“And where does dangling Malloy here as bait fit into that?”

“It doesn't,” Ellie said, reaching for Jake's hand. “I mean—we did think it would be better if Walker thought Jake was going to recover and that he might tell us something, but even if it was the only way to catch Walker, we couldn't.”

“I'm not the only one the doctors wanted to keep in the hospital,” Jake said, rubbing his wife's back. “They figure another stressful incident like that on top of the complication they're almost sure she has will cause a miscarriage. So far they haven't put her on bed rest, but it wouldn't take much to change their minds.”

“So we both agreed that neither of us was going back to the hospital. Jake is under protection and safe here at NCIS, and so am I. We're both going to take it very easy, though I'd like to do some work on the bigger picture stuff—I think if I could put together the pattern of intelligence leaks, we could connect it back.”

“What about Matthews' open investigations?” Vance asked. “Her files?”

Jake shook his head. “They require a higher level of clearance than most people have. She was a level above almost everyone else because her job was to monitor the use of classified information. Technically, she outranked Walker, even if she might report to him in some matters.”

Vance eyed him. “Above you?”

Jake grimaced. It figured someone would ask about that. “She was able to investigate me—”

“As she would the director of the NSA if suspicion fell on that office,” Vance said. “That's not what I asked. I asked if your level of clearance allows you access to her files.”

“Yes, technically,” Jake said. “We were of a similar level because of the legal angles.”

“Only sending Jake back to the NSA right now would be like asking him to commit suicide,” Ellie said, putting her hand back on her stomach. “I really don't think that we have to do that. There are other ways, even if they are slower.”

“We might not have to send anyone in for the files. The threat of doing that might be enough,” Vance said with a smile. “Let me make a few calls. I think Fornell can get us what we need.”

* * *

“Interesting choice you made,” Gibbs said, putting the folder on the table in front of him as he sat down across from Walker. “You went with eliminating two of the only people who had clearance and could prove that you were a traitor in one go.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I think you do,” Gibbs said. “Taylor Matthews was IA. She would have found your little side business eventually. It was what she did, and she was good at it. She was a bloodhound according to everyone who knew her, and she rarely backed down. In fact, the only times she did was because Jake Malloy got between her and her target.”

Walker shook his head. “Everyone knows Malloy has a soft spot for his wife a mile wide. Man had blinders on when he married her, and he never took them off, not even when she as much as left him. She chose this place over everything. He just didn't see it.”

Gibbs didn't bother acknowledging that. It might have hurt Bishop or Malloy, but that wasn't what concerned Gibbs now. Feelings got bruised all the time. They healed. Words weren't the same as a bullet, and Walker had already used too many of them.

“Matthews was getting close to your operation, wasn't she?” Gibbs asked instead. “If you'd kept it small, kept it to a one, maybe two time thing, she might not have noticed.”

“I didn't do anything wrong.”

Gibbs glared at him. “You and I both know that's a lie. You were too greedy to stop. So you came up with a way to get rid of Matthews. And not just her. You went after another thorn in your side. Malloy.”

Walker shook his head. “Malloy's one of my best, Gibbs. In spite of his weakness to his wife.”

Gibbs gave him a smile. “Not according to your boss. Seems he's not just one of your best. He's on the short list to replace you.”

Walker frowned. “Replace me? Why would they do that? No. They wouldn't.”

“Treason, murder, attempted murder. Sounds like plenty of good reasons to replace you.”

“You can't prove any of that.”

“You weren't safe just because Matthews was dead,” Gibbs said. “We have her files.”

“You don't have access to that. Your clearance level isn't high enough. Same with that FBI agent. You also have no jurisdiction to—”

“I have Bishop,” Gibbs told him, almost smiling as he did. “And means I have Malloy, who has jurisdiction, access, and clearance.”

“He's in the hospital—”

The door opened, and Malloy walked in, too pale but not as unsteady on his feet as he might have been having been shot only a day ago. Graze or not, the bullet had done enough damage. He put a new folder down in front of Walker.

“Talk your way out of that,” Malloy told him. “I want to hear it. Tell me there's something that justifies any of that.”

“It's not what you think. You don't understand—”

“That,” Malloy said, touching the file again, “is treason. There's not a lawyer on this earth that could defend you against that. The only reason you weren't already arrested was because you managed to distract Taylor. If she'd dug any deeper, like I did, she'd have found the proof she needed.”

“You're bluffing,” Walker said, shaking his head. “You are a lousy liar, Malloy.”

“Which is why you should know that it's not a bluff,” Malloy told him. “We have everything we need in this file. You might want to look at it. I'd advise you to get a lawyer, but I don't think even the money you earned betraying your country can buy you one.”

Gibbs wanted to believe that, but he wasn't sure. Some people had no principles. Fortunately for all of them, Malloy wasn't one of them. “We have you for treason. You want to tell us the truth about Agent Matthews' death?”

Walker sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at both of them. Gibbs figured he wasn't planning on talking.

“Come on, Malloy. I hear the director has a job offer to make you,” Gibbs told him, ushering the younger man out the door and into the hall. He shut the door to the interview room, letting Walker stew with the folder Malloy had given him.

“You're joking about that, right?” Malloy asked, leaning against the wall and looking pale again. He shouldn't be on his feet. “There is no job offer. Just like I'm not actually in consideration for Walker's job.”

Gibbs shrugged. “Think I know a director who'd give you just about any job you wanted.”

Malloy frowned. “Gibbs—”

“Nicely done, Jake. Thought you might be in a bit of trouble there for breaking rule twenty-two,” DiNozzo said, coming out of the observation room, “but you rehearsed that, didn't you?”

“I don't know why you're so happy. He didn't admit to anything, and all bravado aside, he can fight the treason charge.”

“Treason generally means the death penalty,” DiNozzo said, shrugging. “Walker might actually cop to the murder to avoid a death sentence. He did do all this to cover up the treason after all. Stands to reason he's scared of facing the consequences of it.”

Malloy looked back at the door. “You really think he'll confess?”

“Wait and see.”


	16. Time to Consider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case wraps up. Jake and Ellie discuss future plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I admit it. I named this story really badly. It seemed to fit when I started it, doesn't quite as much now.
> 
> Still, I think this is a good place for it to take a pause and wait for a possible sequel.

* * *

“So he admitted to killing Taylor to avoid being tried for treason?” Jake asked as Bishop helped him sit down in her desk chair. He winced, putting a hand to his side, and Abby bit her lip, hating seeing her friends in pain. Ellie didn't look much better, still a little pale and probably nauseated. She leaned against him. Abby figured they needed more chairs. She looked at McGee, but he wasn't paying attention.

“Tried to, at least. It's up to the US attorney to decide if he'll go for the murder charge or pursue the treason. Personally, I kind of hope he goes for treason,” Tony said. “Better than him sitting in prison for life. Or worse, getting parole in twenty-five years.”

“I think I prefer something that will keep him locked up for a lot longer than twenty-five years,” Bishop said, on hand on her stomach, the other wrapped around her husband's arm. He gave her a weak smile. “And I am very glad that we didn't actually have to use Jake as bait, because I was afraid we were, and my stomach would have hated it.”

“I don't think that would have helped,” McGee said. “Walker wanted to frame Jake for Matthews' murder. He needed Jake alive for that. I think if it had gone on much longer, we would have found more 'evidence' that pointed to Jake as the killer.”

Tony snorted. “Like we'd fall for that. We'd already cleared Jake.”

Ducky shook his head, moving around to the front of Gibbs' desk. “If the idea was to make it look like Jakob had hired a sniper to kill Agent Matthews and injure him so as to free him from suspicion, Walker would simply have to prove the connection as well as tie that killer to the death of Mark Judge, and if that killer were to implicate Jakob, our earlier work to exonerate him might not matter.”

“Except that we all know Jake is innocent,” Abby said, giving him a big smile. “We'd prove it, just like we did when Tony was being framed and when Ziva was framed...”

Jake frowned. “People get framed around here a lot?”

Tony shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not often,” McGee said. “And at least we know how to prove when someone's being framed.”

“For which we are all grateful,” Bishop said, giving her team a smile before looking over at her husband. “Is your side bothering you? We could go home. With Walker in custody, we don't have to be here for protection, and if you're tired—”

“I do think rest would be best for both of you,” Ducky said. “You were very fortunate, Jakob, in that the bullet did not do much more damage.”

“He's right,” Abby said with a wince. “I mean, the guy might not have been a pro, but the velocity of a bullet fired at that distance—and since it went through Matthews to hit you _and_ your car—really lucky.”

Bishop winced. “Did you have to give us the details? Because right now, with the nausea—”

“Easy, Bish,” Tony said, eying her trashcan warily. “No need for that now. It's over. We got the bad guy. Again. You're safe. Little Bishop is safe. Your baby daddy is safe.”

Jake winced. “Um, Tony—”

“He won't call you that again,” McGee said, giving Tony a look. Abby seconded it, and she figured that Gibbs had added his glare to the warning, too. She knew that Tony wouldn't say it again, at least not to Jake's face. They could count on him for that much. “You know, Bishop, we can handle the rest of the paperwork. You can go.”

“It's not really going to be like this for the rest of my pregnancy, is it?” Bishop asked, grimacing. “I am more than the baby I'm carrying.”

Abby figured it was better no one told her that was probably only going to get worse.

“Sending you home because Malloy got himself shot,” Gibbs said. “Let's go. I'll give you both a ride home.”

“Just a minute, Gibbs,” Vance said as he came down the stairs. Abby watched Bishop frown as she stood, about to help Jake back out of the chair. He rounded Tony's desk and stopped in front of Ellie's. “Malloy, I'd like to have a word with you.”

Jake forced himself up to his feet. “Is there something else you need for the case? I know we bent the rules with using my access to get the evidence we needed and—”

“That's a matter for the legal department,” Vance said. “Which was part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It is?” McGee asked, and Abby reached over to hit him, wanting him to stay silent so that Vance didn't make his next words something about discussing it privately.

“I hear you may be interested in making a change of venue,” Vance told Jake. “It's probably not as glamorous as the NSA, but NCIS does have a legal department. Why don't you come by my office when you've healed up to discuss a formal offer?”

Abby bounced with excitement. That would make Jake part of their team for real. That would be awesome. He could be there for all their legal stuff _and_ to take good care of Bishop and Little Bishop.

“Thank you, Director. I will do that,” Jake told him with a smile. 

Vance smiled back. “Great. I look forward to it.”

“Well, look at that, Jakey boy,” Tony said, going toward him as the director walked away. “Taking a step up in the world.”

Bishop frowned. “Technically, it would be a—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” McGee warned, his eyes darting toward Vance and then back to Gibbs. “Just... blame it on the hormones and take Jake home.”

“I am not an invalid. It was actually a flesh wound,” Jake said, and then added, “Mostly.”

“Told you I knew a director that would offer you any position you wanted,” Gibbs said, herding Jake and Ellie toward the door. “Let's go.”

* * *

“This is getting to be a bad habit,” Ellie said, looking around the apartment before sitting down. She was in one of her favorite lounging outfits again, the kind Jake knew no one else got to see—she hadn't even worn them around him for the first year or so of their marriage. Ellie liked comfort, but she also liked privacy. “Sitting around in the middle of the day. Since when do we do that?”

“Never,” Jake agreed, since the pain wasn't letting him do much and if he took his prescription, he'd pass out and be completely useless. “It is strange, isn't it?”

“Very.” Ellie sighed. “I should have grabbed something to eat.”

“I imagine when you were in the kitchen, you weren't hungry. You were nauseous.”

“Yep, and as soon as I sat down—starving, with no nausea in sight.”

“I can get—”

“You stay. I don't need it that much, and I think I'm better off not eating for a bit. I'm still learning how to manage the morning sickness, and I don't want to push because I refuse to go back to the hospital. The medication keeps it tolerable, so I will tolerate it.”

Jake touched her cheek. “That sounds a bit like pushing.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm not climbing into bed and staying there just because I'm having a baby. I know it happens, but most women work throughout their pregnancy. Some even up to their due date. I don't want to just... sit around.”

“It bothers you, doesn't it?”

She sighed. “At the NSA, it was always about my mind and my ability to analyze. I wasn't really subjected to sexism that much, with a few exceptions from jerk field agents. Still, it was pretty rare to be defined only as a woman working there. Then I went to NCIS, and it was different, but not _this_ different. I feel like all anyone sees is the baby, and I don't even show yet.”

“Your team is happy for you—worried, since there was a bit of a scare—but happy. They were pretty involved in Palmer's wife's pregnancy, weren't they?”

“That wasn't the same thing. Breena doesn't work here. She wasn't there every day, and she was not a field agent. I'm not even sure I've heard of another female field agent who's been pregnant.”

“That's a fallacy. Just because you haven't heard of one doesn't mean she doesn't exist. She could be long retired or in some satellite office you've never heard of. Maybe you should look into that later, review the precedence and even talk to some of them if they're willing.”

Ellie nodded. “I can do that. Later, though, when I actually feel like moving to get my laptop.”

Jake wrapped his arm around her, letting her rest against his uninjured side. This felt good, but then it had almost from the very beginning. Ellie was special, he'd known that from day one, and he was glad he hadn't lost her. He could have, to the job—his or hers—or to something else, maybe even Taylor. Walker had set them both up, but if she was willing to believe it, then Jake knew that only his actions had stopped it from being more.

He leaned his head against Ellie's. He could have made a terrible choice if things were different, if they hadn't reconnected after he gave up Korkmaz' computer.

They had, though, and that made all the difference.

“Do you think that you'll take the director up on his offer?”

Jake shrugged, lacing his fingers through hers. “I don't know yet. We have a lot of things to consider—”

“You mean the baby,” Ellie said. “I kind of thought you were joking about being a stay-at-home dad. Does this mean you weren't?”

He shook his head. “I'm not saying that's my plan. I'm just saying there's a lot to consider. Last week, the idea of leaving the NSA was still an abstract. I figured I would since I wanted to stop having national security come between us, and I knew I wouldn't before Budd was caught. Then he was, but before I really reacted to that, we found out you were pregnant. Everything changed, and we got caught right in the middle of murder and treason. A lot has gone on since then.”

“It has,” Ellie agreed. “Still, you are still leaving the NSA, aren't you?”

He nodded. “After Walker and Taylor, I couldn't stay. There's a lot of bad memories. I'd always be caught up in the disgust and guilt. It would be impossible to get anything done. Plus, as I said before, I want us to be able to talk. That's going to be even more important now.”

She put his hand down on her stomach. “Yes, it is.”

“I haven't even heard Vance's offer yet,” Jake reminded her. He sighed. “And to be honest, I'm a little worried about working together again. We fell into a bad habit of letting the job be all we had in common, and I don't want to do that again. Children put a strain on every marriage, and if we have nothing but the baby and our jobs, we will be in a worse place than we were before.”

“We are never going there again,” Ellie insisted, reaching up to put her hands on his face. She kissed him, letting her hands fall and leaning her head against his after stopping for air. “Never.”

He was relieved to hear that from her. “Let's just take a little bit of time, since I'm injured and you're still adjusting to the medication and morning sickness. We'll figure out how we make things work with us and how we're going to handle being parents, and we'll go from there. I... I am a little worried about us trying to find a house again, too, but there is no way this apartment is going to work for us and a baby.”

“House hunting,” Ellie said with a moan. “Not again.”

“Don't puke on me. Please.”

“I'll try not to,” she told him, “but I might end up falling asleep here.”

“That's fine. I'm not going anywhere.”


End file.
